


Turnips

by 4everTheValley



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4everTheValley/pseuds/4everTheValley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of the joys and trials faced by Heath and Sarah when, following their encounter in Days of Grace, she returns to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to read The Sampler first - it could be considered a prologue to this story.
> 
> A bit of a preamble. Two aspects of Days of Grace have long haunted me: the look on the face of the Sister in charge, when Sarah (Sister Jacob) asked permission to visit Heath in jail, that said “I wonder …” and Sarah’s response of “What makes you think I ever stopped?” to Victoria’s comment that she must have loved him very much at one time. This is my response to the haunting—and both the back and front story to The Sampler (The Verandah). While it is not necessary to read that story first, it could be considered a Prologue. 
> 
> A special thanks to Debbie (Docdeb) from whom I received permission to borrow her Sarah from Seasons of Sarah published in Victoria's Parlour on The Big Valley Writing Desk.
> 
> And yes, you will notice bits of series dialogue sprinkled throughout—definitely out of episode context, and not necessarily uttered by the same character.

_“The most creative power given to the human spirit is the power to heal the wounds of a past it cannot change.”_  Lewes B. Smedes

**Chapter 1**

The silence was frightening in its suddenness. As his heart beat faster and his stomach tightened he sensed he wasn’t part of the silence … no not a part … but rather the cause. Yes, somehow he was the cause—his furtive glance revealing that all eyes around the table were resting on him confirmed that suspicion. A quick scan of himself and his place revealed nothing untoward.  _What've I done? I must've said somethin’ … something’ unacceptable … inappropriate … certainly upsettin' … but what? What? What could it’ve been?_

He could feel his heart pounding in time to the throbbing that was slowly growing in his head. He searched for answers … for reassurance and relief—in the warm, brown eyes of his most cherished wife … his sanctuary whenever such was needed. And found none.  _What did I say_ …  _oh, Lord, just please let it be somethin’ that can be made right again._ His blue eyes, brimming with dismay, roamed round the table once more encountering the upset that shone back to him. His blue met her brown again, seeing the same and something more … something he didn’t understand. Perplexed he looked to the others and saw it there too. _They’re upset, she’s upset, but not_  …  _seemingly not at me? Yes, that’s it_ …  _they’re not upset at me_  …  _but fer me._

His puzzled blue eyes looked down and he tried to think.  _What had been happenin’ before the horrid silence hit. I’d been thinkin’ about the new stallion—thinking about the value it brought ta the breeding program—and thinking about how much I was goin’ ta enjoy the work of gentlin’ that magnificent animal. But, I weren’t talkin’ about it, just thinkin’ about it—and nothin’ there ta cause upset, even if not left ta thought alone. And before that, what was happenin’ before ma thoughts went ta the stallion?_

 _We’d all been ’round the table—adults and children alike. Boy howdy but Mother relishes these rare times when all the family’s here. We’d been updatin’ on recent events in everyone’s home, and gently teasin’ whene’er the opportunity allowed … enjoying laughter and joy and love. Love, in abundance. Love I’ve long ago learned ta accept. And happiness—mine and theirs. And yet, it must’ve stopped, been stopped_  …  _by someone or somethin’—otherwise what opened the pathway fer me ta slip inta thinkin’ about the stallion?_

Looking up again, his eyes met those of 12-year-old Thomas. For reasons never understood there had always been a special bond between the two…a bond that held secure across time and distance—a bond unbroken and reaffirmed each time they were again in each other’s presence, either here at the ranch or at Jarrod’s home in San Francisco. 

Their eyes locked and his breath caught back of the lump forming in his throat as he saw the raw emotion behind those eyes. There was more than upset … more than caring … there was sadness … yes, sadness … and more … more what? An apology? For what? But yes, that was what the eyes said, “I’m sorry”. 

Somehow Thomas was a part of whatever had caused the silence. He forced his gaze to hold Thomas’s as he looked deep and hard … frantically looking for the answer. Thomas cast his eyes down … down to not the table, but rather what was on the table. Down to his plate and what was on the plate. The turnips.

They sat there—that mound of mashed, now cold, turnips—and spoke volumes into the silent void. Yes, the turnips were the answer. The turnips were the catalyst. Thomas’s eyes came back to those wondrous blues that said apology refused—refused with a firm message that it was not warranted, not needed, all was okay … that he was okay … that the two of them would go on being just fine. In spite of all he had done, all he had caused, those blue eyes said he remained loved, cherished, valued and irreplaceable. Past the huge lump in his throat, Thomas swallowed hard, and let his eyes send back his thanks, while the tears he could no longer hold back rolled quietly down his cheeks.

And then Heath remembered—now he knew, knew and understood. He had been caught unawares, and the family had been privy to one of those precious-to-them moments when his guard was not just down—down, to be brought up quickly—but gone. His answer to Thomas’s question had come without thought, without censure, without reservation. It had come from that place at the outskirts of thoughts on a stallion bordered by the trust that permitted vulnerability. He remembered it all.

_“Do you like turnips, Uncle Heath?” The question arising after considerable admonitions from both Jarrod and his wife for Thomas to eat his turnips, and equally strong resistance from their son. A lengthy exchange that provided the opportunity for Heath’s focus to drift to the stallion, before the question somewhat pulled him back, and produced the quick reply, “Reckon I do” followed by the answer to the subsequent question, “How did you learn to like ‘em?”_

_“Well, Thomas, when any food comes ‘round, and ya get  permission ta eat it, and eating it means this’ll be a day—or night— when ya won’t be feelin’ hungry the whole o’ the time, well, Thomas, don’t much matter what it is, ya like it just fine. Guess it weren’t never a matter o’ learnin’ ta like ’em, but more a matter o’ ne’er learnin’ not ta like—ta appreciate and be thankful fer anythin’ what could be eaten. Guess I like turnips, and anythin’ else just fine.”_  

And there it was, another little piece of the history of Heath Barkley. Sure, the family had known he, growing up, didn’t have what his brothers and sister had. They knew he  had often done without simple things—and suspected that occasionally he had done without necessities. Things like clothes, adequate shelter, books, and toys and well, like…food. But he had never told them—exactly. And they knew about Carterson—and the starvation that was an irrefutable part of that experience—and the fact that he had had lean times before and after that experience, before coming to them. 

He had told them about that—told them some of it. He had just never told them  _exactly_  all about it. Never told them that hunger was the norm growing up, rather than the exception. Until now. And now he had, and suddenly he found himself feeling as distressed as they. Suddenly he knew he was responsible—responsible for the anguish he now saw in their eyes, for the pain, the hurt … for the grief.

Thomas had asked a simple question and he had answered—and had not realized he needed to keep his guard close by. His guard, his responsibility to maintain. The guard he had perfected long years before, perfected to protect himself. The guard he normally kept close now, to continue to protect, not himself but those he held most dear—to protect them from him—from all those things about him … things that could create the hurt he now saw settled upon them. He had failed. And it could not be undone. He excused himself, and escaped out the front door.

Sarah rose to follow him, and was interrupted by Victoria's simple request “Will you allow me?” Sarah’s eyes met Victoria's, and not needing the assurance she found there— assurance that no harm would come to him—and seeing the need, the plea, she acquiesced with a quick nod, and felt an arm across her back, the hand squeezing her far arm, bringing support and understanding. And knew it was Nick. Nick who had sprung to his feet as Heath fled. Somehow, together, they would make it be alright. She gave a quick glance at Nick, a glance that said thanks, thanks for the support and being here—like always.

She moved over behind Thomas, resting her hands on his shoulders, and planting a kiss on the top of his wavy, black hair. Then, as she raised her eyes, she saw the icy-blue flash, and so much more, in the ones directly across the table. She skirted around the table as quickly as possible and as he rose and stepped toward her, she scooped up her son into the comfort of a mother’s arms. His hands clutched the back of her dress and his breath hitched in repeated gasps in an inexorable process of releasing the pain and anguish. 

She hadn’t the words to ease the angst he held—held close and hard—and knowing naught what else to do—knowing somehow there was naught else to do—while her mind reeled and her heart ached, she held him tight as the pain and anger flowed out and over her. In time the trembling stopped and the tension in his arms faded, until he released her and tentatively pushed back. Taking a deep breath and straightening his spine, in an action so like his father, he nodded and she smiled. She knew this was all he needed—indeed all he could tolerate—for now. She let him go, and marveled at the strength and compassion, the intelligence and awareness, the humanness and humanity, that could exist in one so young. He was indeed his father’s son. 

********

Victoria, finding him at the far corral with the new stallion—where she expected, indeed where she knew he would be—wrapped her arm around his and waited. Eventually, they came—words she knew patience would produce. “It’s his fault,” with a quick flick of his chin towards the stallion. “I was busy thinking on him, and didn’t pay ’nough heed ta Thomas. Did one of those perfect imitations of Nick—talk then think.” He chuckled.

“Oh Heath. I live for those moments—as do we all. Those wonderful few moments when you let us see a little bit of the Heath we did without—suffered without—for all those years.”

“Oh Mother,” he rejoined, “It’s over—history—ancient history. Why dig it up? All it can do is hurt—hurt you—hurt everyone. His pained, sad eyes turned to her, and the soft drawl pleaded, “Let it die. It only brings pain to those I love.”

 “I know, I know … sometimes what comes is painful,” she whispered. “But the pain is temporary, and the joy it brings is forever. The joy of being trusted, being honored, being gifted with a small piece of who you were … who you are. Heath, I don’t believe you can begin to know how very, very precious what you just shared is to us … how very, very grateful we are that it cannot be taken back. That you became Nick-like long enough to bestow such a treasure upon us. 

“To let it die, would be to let that die, to let a part—a very treasured, very cherished, a priceless part of you—to let a part of you die. We don’t want to lose you. Not a single piece of you. We want you to share yourself—all of you—with us. We want you to trust us enough to do that. We welcome the pain. Welcome it for the joy it brings.”

When he turned back to stare across the corral at the stallion she reached up slowly, and gently, placed her hand on his far cheek, and turned his face, so their eyes could meet. She saw the anguish, the regret, the love—yes, the love—that shone from the depths. In return she let him see the truth of what she said, while her eyes returned, the joy, the appreciation, the thankfulness—and, the love.

Their gazes held for a time, until she saw the flash of the lopsided smile she adored, and felt herself taken into the warm, accepting, healing hug she so revered. And so they remained for a long while. Then, as the arms wrapped around his waist felt him relax against her, she knew he had received and accepted her message. It would be okay. They would be okay. The sun dropped below the horizon, and the temperature with it, as they returned to the house and family that waited.

In their absence, dinner was finished and the children settled into bed. Jarrod, with Sarah trailing behind, descended the stairs, as Silas, ever attentive to the needs of his family, prepared to serve dessert and coffee to the now-complete collection of adults. Sarah stepped behind Heath’s chair, and bending to kiss his cheek, whispered in his ear that Jonathan needed him. Heath raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she replied out loud, “Something is troubling him—and while he might be in bed, he’s not going to sleep until it’s sorted out. He’s quiet.”

Nick laughed, “Ain’t that kind o’ like saying that water is wet?”

Sarah smiled, then chuckled, while glancing back to her husband, “But right now he’s not quiet like Jonathon Barkley, he’s quiet like Heath Barkley.” Heath nodded, stood and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll see ta him,” knowing that whatever was troubling his son it was not likely to be uncovered this night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Heath moved slowly down the stairs.  _Well I’ve done the best I can fer now. Maybe knowing that ma conversation with Mother was a help will reassure him that I’m okay, and he doesn’t have ta worry. And I’m pretty sure he knows I’m not upset with Thomas, never was. It will just have ta do fer now._ Reaching the bottom of the stairs, mildly confident his son was settled, at least for the night, he rejoined the family.

Amid the now late-evening flow of conversation Victoria looked up and saw the young blond standing under the arch, dejected, his shoulders slumped, his eyes brimming with trickling tears and for a moment her heart failed. The barely stifled gasp was mute response to what she fleetingly imagined—a small, yellow-haired boy with emotive blue eyes seeking comfort, reassurance, protection. Protection from all that was frightening in his small world, with only a mother’s thin arms—solitary arms, overburdened arms—as sanctuary. A little boy from long ago—a little boy alone. And clearly she could envisage by his side the invisible ghost of the father—the father who occupied the empty spot, the hole in his life. The emptiness—the lack—the absolute lack he felt on a daily basis.

Recovering and returning to the moment, she softly asked “Jonathan?”

His head snapping around, and quickly taking in the forlorn appearance of the little boy he had thought to be quieted and sleeping upstairs, Heath quickly had him gathered into his arms. Easing into a chair, he cradled his trembling son against his chest, his quiet drawl reassuring, “It’s okay … it’s gonna be okay … Papa’s got you … and it’s gonna be okay.” One calloused, work-roughened hand slowly and gently rubbing the small back, Heath encouraged, “Let me hear—let me hear what’s got ya so upset. It’s gonna be all right” as he continued to enfold and comfort this small treasure, until in whispered hitches the words came.

“I … I ne … ne … never … s … s … aid … never said … sor … sorry … ry. Wha … wha … what if … what if … he … he … di … di … died … be … be … before … fore I … I tol … told—” any remaining words erased by the racking sobs that replaced the silent tears. 

Heath drew him closer, holding tight, as understanding dawned and his own tears dripped slowly onto the sweat-dampened locks. He held, and rocked and cried. Cried for the pain and fear borne by his quiet son, cried for his own loss—and yes, his own pain—and … fear. Would he ever find the magic words to open the vault in which Jonathan stored his pain, his fear ….

In time the small boy quieted, and looking up at the man who held him, whispered, “Papa, I got to tell him now. Now! Please, Papa.”

Taking a deep breath, Heath pulled him close, and gazing over the small, blond head to Jarrod’s sapphire eyes, offered quiet reassurance. “Okay son, let’s ask Uncle Jarrod and Aunt Sharon. Let’s see if it’s okay with them.” Feeling the nod against his chest and then the shifting in his arms as his young son slowly rose up to lean against him and turn his haunted eyes to Uncle Jarrod’s, Heath uttered the question, “Jarrod? Sharon?”

Receiving no reply and a bewildered gaze Heath suddenly realized that he was the only one who understood what had so distressed his son. He explained, “Jonathan went ta bed without telling Thomas he was sorry fer being angry with him. He needs ta tell him sorry now—can’t risk waiting fer mornin’.” His blue eyes pled for understanding without having to say more, and suddenly that understanding hit home to Jarrod, and then Sharon.

Thomas’s parents glanced at each other and with hearts breaking, and eyes glistening, nodded. In a cracking voice Jarrod assured his young nephew that it would be okay “Thomas will go right back to sleep—and likely sleep more soundly for hearing your words. Go along. Wake him and tell him what you must.” A squeeze of each other’s hands told both that the fleeting, little lop-sided smile was all the thanks they needed.

Heath nodded his relief and led Jonathan out of the room and up the stairway to see his much-loved cousin, while the others looked around at each other, wondering if they had understood correctly.

Sarah raised her face from where it had been buried in her hands, and with tears trickling down, between sharply drawn breaths, confirmed their worries, “He’s still afraid, afraid someone he loves will die … will be suddenly gone and he will not have made everything right with them, between them. He will be left with nothing but the memory of what he didn’t do—and the unbearable guilt. And all these months later we don't know why. No matter what we’ve said, how we’ve tried to comfort him, the fear remains. Remains as powerful and overwhelming as the day it happened. I don’t know what to do—I don’t know how to help my son.” So saying, she gave in to a mother’s anguish and let the sobs come.

Nick moved over quickly and drew her up into his strong arms. He knew if she was suffering like this, then so was Heath—maybe him the more. And if there was one thing Nicholas Jonathan Barkley could not endure it was the thought that his little brother was hurting—or those dear to that brother. Heath and all that was Heath’s Nick held sacred. He would offer what comfort he could, without reservation, without minimizing. If Heath, or his, were in pain, then Nick would be there for them, and he would feel that pain as deeply and poignantly as they.

As Sarah’s tears slowed and her breathing calmed, she shifted back and drew her wet, brown eyes up to lock on the hazel looking down. In that moment she saw all the love, all the caring that she had come to know was as much a part of this loyal and trusted family member as his more reputed, daunting characteristics.

Squeezing his shoulder and bestowing a sad but thankful smile, she stepped back and seated herself once more. It would be alright, they would find a way—all of them together would find a way to get through this. It was a challenge and they could meet it—they would meet it.

********

Heath left the house early the next morning needing to catch a sunrise. He sat on the knoll a long while, as dawn was slowly born, deep in thought.  _Maybe it was time—time to move on, to truly start a new day. Time to find a way for Jonathan, indeed for all of them, to heal. How does one heal from such a thing? How does one go on? How does one not?_

He looked up as the colors began to infiltrate the pale sky and thought back to that day when the color had left his world. With a quick shake of his head to displace the memory—memories he didn't want this morning, he let his thoughts drift back further. Back to when his life had acquired a full palette of colors—maybe for the first time in a long while, maybe for the first time ever. He was never sure. He didn’t care—it was enough to have it, to revel in it, and to know it was all he’d ever wanted.

She’d been in town several days before he saw her ….  

**12 years earlier:**

In that moment he froze. The old pain—the pain he thought was long buried—sliced through him. He blinked, and blinked again, and convinced his eyes they’d been mistaken. It couldn’t be her. She wasn’t here, she was in a mission far away—far beyond his reach. Shaking his head he stepped off the boardwalk and made to cross the street. Better to catch the store last. Half-way across the street he found himself stopping. The pain had collided with a long-dead hope. He had to know.

Retracing his steps he headed for the mercantile, noticing as he drew closer that the Help Wanted sign the window housed his last visit to town was gone. “Don’t mean a thing,” he told himself—and the damp tinder of hope grew warmer.

Entering the store he noticed Lyle Jeffries behind the counter and quickly offered him the list of supplies for which he’d come. Looking around he saw a few customers, but no sign of the face he sought.  _Heath Barkley yer a fool!_

“Keepin’ busy?” he asked the affable owner.

“Not sure I’ll ever catch up, but I’m glad to say the new help has been a Godsend. Lovely girl, and more than willing to help Tillie with the housework or children when needed. Takes a load off my mind—and my leg, or arm, or neck, or lap,” he chuckled.

“Figured you’d been lookin’ ta hire a boy ta help in here, or do deliveries,” Heath barely whispered as he realized he’d been holding his breath and trying to undo the knot in his stomach. “Guess havin’ someone who can do more might be more useful than a strong arm or back.”

“Got that right” Lyle confirmed, “although I doubt I’d have seen the wisdom in it myself without the necessary persuading from Tillie. In fact, I think it was just something about that young lady that persuaded the both of us. As I said, a lovely girl.”

“New to town?” he asked, while the knot tied itself tighter and he found himself again without enough breath for more than a whispered reply. _Now don’t go jumpin’ ta conclusions._

Lyle looked at him quizzically. “You okay Heath. One of those horses of yours break some ribs?

Quickly shuttering his emotions, Heath responded. “I’m fine. Just enjoy a _quiet_  conversation on occasion. Don’t often get ta town without Nick, ya know,” he added hoping to quell the man’s curiosity. It worked.

“I can appreciate that. He’s not what you’d call quiet.”

“No. But my brother’s a good man. They don’t come much better and I’ll take him whatever way he comes—and enjoy the occasional reprieve.”

“Oh, that he is. No argument from me. But to answer your question, yes, she’s new to town. Saw my sign and came asking about a job. As I said, I wasn’t looking for a girl to hire, so it’s lucky Tillie was here at the time. She’s always been good at sizing up folks. Asked a few questions and discovered the young lady had worked in a store before, and was right good with children besides. Said she could get references if needed. Tillie quietly suggested we hire her, and so hire her we did.”

Heath laughed. He knew what Jeffries was implying. Be like having Victoria Barkley ‘quietly suggest’ something. Looking back at Lyle, Heath conceded that everyone was more than aware of Tillie’s influence on her husband, and most envied the marriage the two had—himself included. There was at time when he had thought that sort of relationship was within his own grasp. He’d been sadly mistaken. Thinking on the shopkeeper’s words, his laugh quickly faded. Good with children, worked in a store. That information did nothing to settle his mind—or his stomach.

“Well, sounds as if you’ve a real find there. Hope it works out well fer all o’ ya. If ya can put that order together fer me I’ll be back in a bit ta collect it.”

“Sure enough Heath. It’ll be waiting for you.”

With a thanks to Lyle he headed out the door and off to his next stop in a state of unease. Then suddenly he stopped.  _What if it is her? What does it mean? Why would she come here?_ Discovering his head was starting to ache, he chastised himself.  _Ain’t you the one always telling’ Nick ta stop lookin’ fer trouble, it will find ya soon enough on its own? More’n likely yer eyes were playin’ tricks on ya. If it’s her don’t ya think she’d come callin’? And if she is here and she hasn’t come callin’ don’t ya guess that tells ya somethin’? Let it go._

He buried the thoughts, and the barely smoldering hope that had come with them, and went about his other errands. A stop at the telegraph office, and a perusal of the message from Mother, drove those thoughts, and all others, even further from his mind. A smile crossed his face—a genuine full force Heath Barkley smile—as he read: Thomas Jarrod Barkley arrived early this morning. Stop. Mother and baby well. Stop. Father overjoyed. Stop. Love Mother.

He needed to finish his errands, pick up the order at the mercantile and get back to the ranch as quickly as possible. If he packed a bag quickly, he could be back in town for the late train to Frisco.  _Boy Howdy. Who would have believed it. I’m an uncle._


	3. Chapter 3

Heath sat in the big leather chair in Jarrod’s study, the small bundle he held curled into his chest. It was quiet. He wasn’t sure where everyone had gone, but he was happy to be alone with his nephew. As he heard the faint sounds emanating from the little guy, he carefully peeled him off his chest and cradled him in his arms. His eyes were open—blue met blue, and locked on each other. This wasn’t his child, but he wondered if whatever it was that coursed through him whenever he looked at wee Thomas, was what parents felt when they looked at their own children. _Was this what Mama had felt when she first looked at me, when she held me, rocked me , and comforted me? Maybe that’s why, no matter what happened, I always felt she loved me._

Whatever it was, it was one powerful feeling and the baby must have felt it too, because he immediately settled down, grew quiet, and continued to gaze at the man holding him.

“HEATH. YOU IN HERE?”

They both stiffened, and Heath quickly stood and started to pace slowly and rock the now-wailing infant, quietly talking to and soothing him as he might a frightened, untamed horse. “Boy howdy, you’ll need ta get used ta that. That’s yer Uncle Nick. He’s a good guy, just a might loud. But you’ll learn not ta be afraid o’ him. You’ll never be safer than when he’s around. It’s okay. I got ya. Shhhussh now. Don’t want ta wake yer Momma yet, or I’ll have ta give ya back. Shhhush, shhussh, shuussh.

“Oh, sorry,” Nick stammered, several decibels lower. “He okay?”

“Oh yes, yer fine, just fine, ain’t ya. Course yer likely never ta grow more’n a few feet tall by the time yer Uncle Nick finishes scaring ya out of another year’s growth.” He briefly glanced at Nick before adding, “Again! But it’s okay. Not ta worry. Your Poppa’ll pound him down a few times and in the end ya’ll both be the same height. Likely he’ll be just as loud though, so ya better get used ta it. There, there, it’s okay.”

Slowly the cries died, and as Heath drew the infant towards him and gently rubbed his back, all that could be heard was the occasional short, gasped breath. Soon that subsided as well, being replaced by the steady, quiet breathing that spoke of sleep.

Heath shot Nick a withering glance, to which Nick quickly raised both hands, palms out, in submission and apology. Attempting a whisper, he added, “Just wondering where you’d gotten ta. Was looking fer some company. Jarrod’s gone ta the office fer a couple of hours, dropping Audra somewhere ta shop. Mother is taking a nap. I didn’t realize you had the little guy,” he offered while peering around Heath’s shoulder at their nephew.

“Shouldn’t he be with his mother,” earned him another withering look, accompanied by, “I think he’s right where he needs ta be.”

While he might have been disappointed that Heath was not available to him, Nick was also secretly amused and delighted with his little brother’s obvious infatuation with the baby. No mistake, Nick was as thrilled as the rest of the family with the new arrival, but it was obvious to all in the few short days they had been here, that something special was transpiring between Heath and Thomas. What none of them realized, at the time, was the budding connection would last a lifetime.

“Well I’m guessing between yer bellowin’ and Thomas’s reaction, Sharon’ll be awake now and lookin’ fer him. I’ll take him up ta her and be back in a moment.”

As he watched them disappear up the stairs, Nick muttered to himself, “I don’t bellow.”

True to his word, Heath reappeared momentarily and the two sat down to a game of checkers.  _Have ta wonder why he keeps askin’ fer games—he seldom wins._ Nabbing two more of Nick’s pieces, he let his gaze rest for a moment on the big man, while he continued to ponder.   _Nick hates losin’ … guess maybe with this it don’t feel like losin’. Seems he gets pleasure out o’ just playin’. Maybe yer more alike than ya think Heath. Ya’d lose every game just fer the pleasure o’ being with him—with any o’ yer family._

As they set up the third game—not a tie-breaker—Nick questioned, “When you thinkin’ of headin’ back ta the ranch? Unless,” he carelessly threw out, “you’re thinkin’ of applyin’ for the job of Nanny.”

Heath glanced up, deftly hid all signs of the humor he felt bubbling up inside, and in a quiet, serious tone inquired, “They looking ta hire a Nanny? Didn’t know the position was open. How long ya think they’ll want me? Guess I better check with ’em.”

“WHAT! I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE PLANNIN’ … AND YOU'RE NOT CHECKIN’ WITH ANYONE. YOU'RE COMIN’ HOME WITH ME. WHAT CAN YOU BE THINKIN’ BOY. DON’T YOU KNOW—” and he quickly grew quiet as he realized that once again he’d been baited and hooked.  _Damn, how does he do that ta me!_

“You’re not funny,” Nick admonished.

“Not if ya don’t think so.”

Nick scowled. “Like I was sayin’, I think we need ta get back ta the ranch. I expect Mother and Audra’ll stay a couple of weeks yet. Carl’s stomach’s probably glad of the break from her helpin’ in the kitchen. But we got work ta do before the cattle drive. We’re already late startin’ roundup and we’ll need ta catch up if the drive’s gonna move out on time.”

“Yeah, Nick, I know,” Heath allowed, feeling slightly guilty. “But, I think this time bein’ here’s more important than gatherin’ up a bunch o’ ornery critters. We’ll catch up. McColl’s probably already got the men started,” he offered in reassurance.

Hearing something in the voice, something akin to a yearning, Nick felt the tightness in his chest and softened his voice in response, “I hear you. This  _is_  where we needed ta be. I can head back tomorrow and you can stay a few more days if you want.”

He felt it. Like a blow to the gut, without the pain. There it was, that strong punch of Nick Barkley love, that said he was more important to Nick than anything out there, and that Nick would do anything to bring the smallest measure of happiness to his life. He’d felt it before, more than once, and yet each and every time, it surprised him—by its unexpectedness and its power. It sent a flow of warmth through his body and tingling down his spine.  _Boy howdy, how’d I ever get so lucky._

“Nah, Nick, yer right, we gotta be getting’ back. Got a whole lifetime ta spend with that little guy. Don’t need ta do it all right now. We could catch the last train tonight, and be there ta start at dawn.”

“Well, I’m guessin’ you’re right, and Mac’ll have gotten things at least organized if not started. We got enough nights on hard ground ahead. I say we head out in the mornin'—enjoy one last night sleepin’ in comfort.”

“Okay, Nick. Oh, and Nick, ya just lost another one. How many more ya wanna lose ’fore we find somethin’ else ta do?”

“WHY YOU! I’LL SHOW YOU …  _Dang, he did it again!_

********

Victoria Barkly, looking refreshed and happy, glided down the stairs just as Jarrod came in the door, overburdened with an assortment of packages. She chuckled, “I’m guessing your little sister has found a few things she couldn’t live without.”

“Hello, Lovely Lady. Yes, a few. She’s collecting the rest from the carriage. I do believe she had herself a delightful day.” He straightened up from balancing his armload on the table to place a kiss on her cheek. “I trust you were able to get some rest?”

“I’m fine, Jarrod. I’m not the one getting up in the middle of the night—one of the advantages of being grandmother instead of mother. I just checked on Sharon. She’s awake and looking rested as well. Go on up. I’ll get the boys to help with all this,” and so saying, waved him up the stairs and swept by heading for the study.

“Nick, Heath, can you please carry the packages in the foyer to Audra’s room?”

Two heads looked up from the map spread on Jarrod’s desk. Discovering that Jarrod had maps of the area they were expecting to cover on the upcoming cattle drive—an area they’d not been over before—the brothers had decided they could put their time to good use and start some of the planning now.

Heath moved first, stepping over to place a welcoming kiss on top of Jarrod’s, and issuing a warm, “Glad ta see ya lookin’ rested. Nick is always happy ta help ya. I’m sure he’d be glad ta cart packages where’er ya’d like,” he suggested with a grin and quick wink.

Trying to hide her own smile, and playing along, Victoria raised a questioning eyebrow to her middle son. “Oh Nick, how wonderful. Thank you so much. Just go quietly. I think the baby may be sleeping.”

“WAIT JUST A MINUTE. I DIDN’T … I DON’T—”

“Ya don’t what Nick. Yer not happy ta help Mother? Oh well, Mother, I’m more’n happy ta help ya and I’ll gladly haul the packages up. See ya shortly. Perhaps Nick’s willin’ ta get ya a drink. Dinner should be ready ’fore long.” Heath strode out of the room, leaving Victoria struggling to contain her laughter, and Nick once more sputtering.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t happy ta help you. How does he manage ta twist things like that. I swear one a these days I’m gonna—” he was cut off by Victoria's hand to his chest, kiss on his forehead, and a smile she could no longer suppress.

“Nick, I’d love a glass of sherry, if you would be so kind. How has your day gone?”

Taking a deep breath, Nick procured the requested drink and handing it to his mother, offered, “Pretty quiet. We’ve been busy the last while lookin’ over the map and plannin’ out the cattle drive. Me and Heath are headin’ back first train in the mornin’. He chuckled, “I think he’s torn. Wants ta get back ta the ranch and the work that’s waitin’, and part of him wants ta stay and play uncle ta that little one. He had him for a good part of the day. Seems ta have the knack of getting’ the little guy ta settle down and keepin’ him happy.”

“You’re right. I’ve noticed it too. Heath is totally captivated, and it seems mutual." Drawing her lower lip below her top teeth, with a quick little tilt of her head, she suggested, "Maybe Heath understands what it’s like for Thomas, joining a ready-made family, and has some idea what it takes to be made to feel welcome. Something tells me those two may have a very special relationship down the line.”

“Guess you could be right,” Nick muttered, as he experienced the twinge of guilt that still arose on occasion when he thought of how welcoming he was to Heath in those early, awkward days. Some regrets just never will fade completely, and that was one for him.

Their reverie was broken by the reappearance of the person under discussion, with a small bundle tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Jarrod says ta let ya know he’ll be down shortly. Audra says she just needs a moment ta freshen up, so by the time she washes up and changes two or three times, I’m guessing we’ll be callin’ her fer dinner.”

“Did his parents give him up voluntarily, or did you sneak him away?” Victoria moved over to gaze lovingly upon her first grandson.

“Can’t say fer sure. Might be they was just too distracted with other things ta notice me slip out with him. But, I didn’t hear no loud protests. He ain't complainin’, guess that’s what matters.”

“I hear you and Nick are heading back tomorrow. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Jarrod offered, as he strode into the room and poured himself a drink.

“Well Jarrod, it’s mighty temptin’ but ya know it’s a workin’ ranch, and it won’t work itself. And, Nick’s right, we’re already behind with roundup,” Heath quickly added to cut off Nick’s protest. “But I do hate ta leave this little guy. Hope he don’t forget me.”

“Doubt that’ll happen. You’re welcome back anytime, and I expect Sharon will be ready for a trip to the ranch by the time you’re back from the cattle drive. She’s got plenty of friends in Stockton who will be anxious to meet this baby.”

A part of Jarrod wanted to draw Thomas into his own arms, hold him, and marvel at the wonder of it all, this baby, his son. But another, far more compelling part, wouldn’t think of it. The part that wanted to give to this brother all, and anything, that he might ever have missed by not being born into this family.  _Brother Heath, if holding my son brings you so much delight, I’ll certainly not be the one to quash that. I’ll have him to myself soon enough._ So, until tomorrow Jarrod was more than happy to share his son with this brother he’d come to relish and love.

It hadn’t been lost on him that Heath seemed to have the magic touch with the newest Barkley—no matter how hard he was crying, how distressed he appeared for whatever reason that might not seem clear, he would quiet almost instantly in his blond uncle’s arms. Work was starting to pile up at the office, and he would need to get some uninterrupted sleep if he was going to be in any shape to tackle it.  _Yes, I just might quickly regret his departure … better enjoy it while it lasts._

“Maybe we should offer you a Nanny position,” Jarrod suggested, and was confused with the choking sound from Nick, the chuckle from Heath, and the odd look exchanged between his two younger brothers. 


	4. Chapter 4

They were on the train early the next morning, but true to his word, Heath did see a great deal of his first nephew in the coming years. Thomas never did, and never would, forget his Uncle Heath. The thing that later amazed Heath, and in fact never ceased to amaze him, was that, in the excitement around Thomas’s arrival and the roundup and cattle drive concerns, he somehow had managed to forget about the new girl at the mercantile. Fortunately, she hadn’t forgotten him.

The year before Thomas arrived the ranch had acquired a new property. The rancher who owned it had succumbed to a bad case of pneumonia and it had taken several years to locate his family and arrange to liquidate the holding. They had sought a local agent to manage the transaction, and since the property bordered Barkley land he had approached Jarrod to see if they might be interested in buying.

Nick had been away at the time and Heath had ridden over to take a look. He liked what he saw—it would be a perfect location to establish the expanding horse operation. He shared his thoughts with the rest of the family, and won their support. He knew he’d find a way to convince Nick, and he had—although for years afterwards Nick wondered just how he’d done that.

As the corrals were repaired and pasture fencing mended he slowly moved the equine stock to the new location. In time the barn was repaired and outfitted with open and boxed stalls. Heath found it efficient for gentling the horses, especially the newer and wilder ones. With no distractions and little noise he could work with them undisturbed and much more quickly build trust and cooperation.

Initially in poor repair, the house under Heath’s careful ministrations, gradually had become a comfortable shelter for those occasions when Heath, pressed for time, would stay over rather than return to the big house. And sometimes, enjoying the solitude and freedom, he’d stay over when circumstances did not dictate a need.

A few days following the cattle drive, such a need arose. It was on this occasion that she came. He’d been in the barn, brushing down the mare he’d finished working for the day, when he’d heard the sound of an approaching horse.  _Ah well, Nick’ll find me soon enough. Guess I’ve pushed it one day too many this time._  Finishing up he stowed the gear, checked all the other stalls to be sure there was water and hay aplenty plus sufficient clean bedding to carry them until morning, and stepped out into the yard, bracing himself for Nick’s bellow.

It didn’t come. It wasn’t Nick’s horse. In fact it wasn’t a horse he recognized at all. And then the visitor stepped around the corner, and time stood still. She was there. Suddenly he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think. All he could do was stare.

The world turned to muted shades of grey. There no longer was the sound of horses, or birds, or the wind in the trees. There was nothing but the pounding of his heart and the sound in his ears of the rushing blood.  _Sarah. Sarah._ He wanted to say something, he wanted to yell with joy, he at least wanted to speak her name. And nothing came.

The fear that suddenly pulled his chest tight and closed his throat impeded the uttering of any sound.  _Why is she here? Can I stand ta have her here and not have her be mine? Can I keep ma promise ta her, ta let her do what was right fer her? Can I face the pain again? Why is she here?_

Then she started to speak, “Heath. Forgive me for showing up like this. I wasn’t sure how to contact you.

“When I first got to town I wanted to find a place to stay and work to support myself. I wanted time to find out about you, about your situation. Did you already have someone in your life, maybe even a wife. I didn’t come to destroy a life you may have built, to threaten your happiness.

She went on, seemingly unable to quell the flow. “I made discreet inquiries and got answers to those questions. And, I discovered you were visiting Jarrod in San Francisco and then busy with ranch work and away on a trail drive. I waited until I knew you were back and came out to speak with you.

“I stopped at the ranch house and your mother told me where to find you. I spoke with her briefly but she gave me the final reassurance that I needed to know it would be okay to let you know I was here. I understand this must be a shock, but we have to talk.

“Please Heath. Say something. Heath. Are you okay? Did you hear me? Heath!” She realized she had been babbling, or at least what seemed like babbling. And she wasn’t sure he had heard a word she’d said.

She moved towards him, stood in front of him, reached out and touched him. And, like an explosion, the air whooshed back into his lungs, and the area around him came alive with sound and color.

“Sarah? Sarah? It’s you. It is you, isn’t it? Yer here. Ya don’t look like Sister Jacob,” he tentatively questioned. Are ya? Are ya Sister Jacob, or are ya Sarah?”

Everything stopped again as he waited for her answer—the only question that mattered.  _Is she really Sarah?_

“Yes Heath," she tilted her head up and smiled, “I’m Sarah.”

He heard it. He took it in, and all it meant. Once again the world started to spin on its axis.

They had moved to the porch swing he’d built and sat and talked for hours. She told him what brought her here.

“After you left Robertsville, I struggled to settle back into the work at the Mission. I thought it was just my remorse for what I had done. Pulling a gun, albeit unloaded,” she chuckled, “on the sheriff, breaking you out of jail, and most importantly, not asking permission from my superiors. Good cause or not, I felt I had a lot to atone for.

“Thankfully I believed in a forgiving God. I kept trying to find my bearings again, trying to get centered and solid. But something was wrong and I didn’t know what. A year passed. I was still troubled and Sister knew it. We had a talk. I told her of the conversation between your mother and I.”

At his look of confusion, she went on to explain, “She said I must have loved you very much at one time, and I told her yes I did. I also asked her what made her think I ever stopped. I know I had told you at Paco’s that my decision to dedicate my life to God had not left a gap to be filled. I may have been a little premature in my conclusion.

“Sister suggested I might do well to determine if I could give my life to God when my heart belonged to another. She made arrangements for me to spend some time at a more remote location where I would have a greater opportunity to work through my confusion and decide what was truly right for me.

“I spent a year there and returned to the Robertsville mission to advise her I had decided to relinquish my vows and explore my options in Stockton. She reminded me that there are many ways to serve God. I knew I had been told that in Virginia City when I first was faced with this decision. I think now I better understand the message.

“I told your mother the truth. I had never stopped loving you. It is still true today. I love you Heath. I believe I will always love you. And, I understand if you no longer love me. Or if you no longer want to act on that love.

Taking in a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his, she continued, “I fear I may have hurt you, not once, but twice. For if I have failed to tell anyone the truth, it is you. I did not choose service to God over my love for you—I thought I could hold both. And my decision did leave a gap, a gap I was not able to see until you rode away from the mission that day. That gap has never been filled.”

She stopped and looked deep into those blue eyes she had never forgotten, and felt her heart quicken at what she saw.

He smiled, a smile that shone from those eyes. A smile, and happiness, joy, relief, and yes, most of all, love. He still loved her too.

_He loves me, but will he risk acting on it? Will he trust his life to me? Have I hurt him too often, too much?_

Slowly he reached out and took her hands in his, drawing them up to his chest where he held them close and tight. And then he stood, bringing her up with him, and took her in his arms and brought her to his chest and held her, close and tight. And so they stood for a long while, each letting the breath ease in and out, and shivering slightly from time to time as the hope set their very skin to tingling. Eventually he moved his arms from around her, grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

“Do ya want ta get married t’night?”

She choked on the quickly in-drawn breath, coughing as he slapped her back. When she could breathe again, she looked at him. Looked long and hard and then started to laugh. And what a wondrous sound it was.

_Sarah’s laughing. Sarah. My Sarah. She’s happy ta be here, ta be with me._

He grew serious as he realized more needed to be said, and he turned his now-solemn eyes on her, as he eased her back onto the seat and leaned against the verandah rail. “I was prepared ta marry ya back in Virginia City,” he quietly drawled. “I thought then that I loved ya—and ya loved me—enough that whate’er we hadn’t figured out we’d be able ta deal with when it came along. I guess I still think that, but ya need to know some things’ve changed.” He raised his hand, palm out, as he saw her about to interject. “I need ya ta hear me out, Sarah.”

Seeing her silent nod, he continued, “Last time I saw ya I told ya some things had changed fer me—the most important being that I found a family and learned how ta belong. That was the biggest—and the best. But not all. There’s been others since ya Sarah. I’ll not lie ta ya and say there hasn’t. It just ne’er worked out—sometimes it were my doin’ and sometimes theirs … sometimes maybe both. But I ne’er stopped lovin’ ya—and maybe that’s one o’ the things that got in the way with others. But, I’ve learned some things about myself along the way. Most importantly, I’ve learned what I want in a wife.” Noticing her rapt attention he went on.

“I’ve seen ya shoeing a stubborn mule. Yer probably more than capable o’ doin’ a lot o’ things. I don’t need a wife ta herd cattle, shoe horses, or clean barns. I can hire men fer that. I don’t even need a wife ta clean an’ cook—I can hire someone ta do that too.

“I need a wife ta be there fer me and ta let me be there fer her, no matter what … no conditions attached. Someone who will accept my family, all of my family, even Nick—maybe most especially Nick,” he sighed. “Like I said, bein’ part o’ that family is the best thing that e’er happened ta me. I won’t give it up.

“I need a wife ta have my children and ta love and treasure them as much as I will. Who will consider it her right and privilege to care fer and nurture, to guide an’ protect those children—and ta let me provide fer her and our children. I need someone ta welcome me home, be glad ta see me whether I’ve been gone an hour, a day, a week or more. I need a wife who will embrace and enjoy life with me and our children, and who will be willin’ to find pleasure in creatin’ those children.

“Sarah, I love ya. But, I can’t let ya agree ta marry me—tonight or ever—if this don’t set right with ya.”

He held her gaze and watched the emotions play across her beloved face while she processed his words. He held his breath. He waited. Patiently.  _She has to understand what I’m saying, and she has to agree—and I can’t be rushin’ her._


	5. Chapter 5

He had stopped. She stood for a moment to ponder all he’d said—and to wonder that she had not thought to consider what she might want in a husband.  _I guess I always thought a husband was someone like my father—someone who treated his wife as he had treated his. Maybe that’s who I thought of Heath as._  This was not the Heath she knew in Virginia City—the Heath she had once turned her back on. It was not even the Heath of Robertsville, alone and desperate, and at the same time so unspeakably brave. No, this was those Heaths and so much more. In that moment she knew.  _This is what I want in a husband. I want this Heath._

A little part of her turned toward that inner imp that resided just beneath her outwardly serious and responsible self, and considered playing with him, teasing him. But only a little part. The rest of her knew she couldn’t do that to him. They would have the rest of their lives to entertain each other in such a way. Now was not that time.

Slowly she rose and came to him, reaching out to brush her fingertips down his cheek and along his jaw. He saw the smile develop, saw it make its way to her soft, brown eyes, and saw the humor build within as she began to speak, “I don’t think God would send me to you so your horses could be shod. I think He has bigger plans for us. Some of what you’re asking I am well able to give—and willing. Some I know little or nothing of, but I’m willing to learn. I need to know you will be willing to teach me, and not give up if you find me a less than apt pupil.”

The smile spread and soon was mirrored by his own. “I reckon I can handle havin’ to repeat the lessons more’n once … or twice. I might not be the best teacher, but I’m gentle and patient—just ask one o’ them shoeless horses.”

Their laughter bubbled up again, unabated and unabashed, as their arms once more slid around each other and held tight. The same thought permeated both.  _This is where I belong. I’m home._   _Should the lessons start tonight?_

In the end they opted to wait. They planned a picnic for the next day, a Sunday. Heath insisted he would bring the picnic basket—Silas made terrific picnics. In the basket she found the ring, the ring he’d save from the canceled picnic long ago. And that evening they told the family.

They were delighted—even Nick. He knew the story of Robertsville, and fully recognized what he owed to this lady. Without her he would not have this little brother he held dear. He could do nothing less than welcome her with open arms. For her part it was enough that this brother held a special place in Heath’s heart—she could give him no less.

“I’m surprised you waited ta tell us, and didn’t just go off last night and get married,” Nick chided, and then looked perplexed at their reaction.

Heath and Sarah looked at each other and began to chuckle.

“Well, what’s so funny,” Nick asked, exasperated.

Heath dropped his head and stopped. They turned to Nick and not able to contain themselves started up again. Continuing to chuckle Sarah tried to answer, “I’m not sure I could begin to explain it—not sure I understand it myself.” She chuckled again.

Heath found himself bestowed with one of Nick’s looks—the look that said you better not be messing with me. Heath chuckled, as the rest of the family looked on in delight. Whatever the impetus, Heath was laughing … Heath was happy.

Victoria had not forgotten her exchange with Sarah—nor had she forgotten what was, to her, an unpaid debt. This remarkable lady had saved the life of her son, and her gratitude was eternal. Jarrod certainly remembered her with fondness, and felicity. For Audra it was enough that Sarah loved Heath and he her. If her blond brother wanted her to welcome and accept this person into the family, she would not be the one to deny his wish.

Sarah had left a trunk of family treasures with the England’s in Virginia City. It wasn’t something she could take with her, and yet there was something about the contents that spoke to her of another time. She had thought it spoke of a time past—never thought to consider it might speak of a time to come. She had it shipped to her and a month later was married in her mother’s wedding dress that had been carefully stored in that trunk.

Heath had worked to complete the final restorations, and add a room with indoor plumbing, to the little house. Following the wedding they moved, to Nick’s dismay, into what he called the shack. Nothing Heath nor Sarah said in the subsequent months could get Nick to accept their decision.

It was Victoria who finally helped him understand he hadn’t lost Heath. She found him again ranting to his siblings a few days after little Leah’s birth, pointing out how disastrous his stiff-back-stubborn-Heath-Barkley decision could have been if she’d arrived a few hours earlier. And how much safer they would all be in the big house, where there was more than enough room for everyone. And why did his little brother have to be so Barkley pig-headed obstinate anyway.

Turning sharply on his mother he snapped, “Surely you have ta agree with me. Surely you can see how right I am, how wrong he is ta be living in that shack.”

Leading him gently over to the settee, she had pulled him down and holding his hands had shared what she discovered while rocking her granddaughter the morning after her birth. Heath felt comfortable, safe, and loved in the little house. He was home.

He wasn’t going anywhere. He was a short, easy ride away, and he was not—not now, and not ever—leaving Nick. He was more securely planted on Barkley soil in the little house than ever he had been in this one. Slowly her message penetrated until Nick was able to still the fear and accept the decision.

Before the year was up Jennie Hallister had returned to Stockton. While Nick had been a little slow out of the gate, in true Nick fashion, he turned it into a whirlwind courtship then quickly married and settled with his new wife into the family home.

It wasn’t a great surprise to anyone. Even as Jennie Hall, before she had made the decision to return to Wyoming, it was obvious to all who knew them that the two could have been a good fit. She could do anything that might be expected of a rancher’s wife, and she had enough fire and fortitude to withstand the force that could be Nick Barkley.

Within a year, Victor Heath Barkley joined the mix. He had inherited his mother’s red hair to match his father’s volatile temperament. It wasn’t just his Uncle Jarrod who suspected, in future, he would need bailing out of more than a few situations.

His arrival had been preceded by weeks with Heath and Sarah’s son Jonathan Thomson Barkley and less than a year later by Jonathan’s little brother Jacob (Jake) Durand Barkley—named after his mother, or so people were told! Insiders understood and chuckled, others looked perplexed—some asking for an explanation, others not.

In truth, Sarah had shared with Heath that her choice of Jacob as being a fine, old biblical name was not influenced unduly by the fact it also had been a favorite of her much-loved mother.

Everything was working out fine.

With three of his own now, Heath still relished the visits Jarrod and Sharon made to Stockton, and the time he spent with young Thomas. It was clear to all the family that Thomas likewise relished the time—alone with Heath or with his cousins.

It was on one such visit that Victoria found her eldest grandson seated on the verandah looking as resolute and subdued as the pillar against which he rested. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, as she watched him stoically regard the toes of his boots, she suggested, “I’m guessing if I were to ask, you’d tell me that nothing is troubling you.”

Motioning for him to join her, she grasped his chin in her hand and turned his head towards her. “I once knew another little boy with those same deep-blue eyes who used to say the same thing. You should be forewarned that your father never managed to keep me from wheedling the truth from him,” she tilted her head to the side and waited.

He furrowed his brow, and then giving up in defeat, whispered, “I was hoping to discuss something with Uncle Heath, but they left before I got the chance.”

“Well, it seems to me that your mother and father are pretty good at having discussions, and if they won’t do I’d be more than happy help you out.”

In a most serious tone he stated, “But Grandmother, you and mother and father will need me to talk.”

She was about to question him, when it suddenly occurred to her that there might be a better option. “How would you like to go for a ride? I’m sure if we go over there Uncle Heath will be more than willing to have a discussion with you. Why don’t you ask Ciego to hitch up the buggy and I’ll go tell your parents where we are going.” He was gone in a flash.

She never did learn what they discussed. However, on the ride home seeing the contented look on his face, she silently thanked her quiet, generous son for having intuitively read his mind and given Thomas what he sought. She knew Jarrod and Sharon bestowed upon this sometimes seemingly-lonely little boy all the attention he craved. But when it was not enough his Uncle Heath appeared to fill the void.

Sharon had miscarried a couple of babies following Thomas and, with she and Jarrod starting a family late in life, it seemed he was destined to be an only child. Her marriage with Jim Scanlon having been childless she was looking forward to children, hopefully several, with Jarrod. It was the only pall on their relationship, and they vowed not to let it overshadow the good. If Thomas was to be their only child, well they would see him as the treasure he was and consider themselves more than blessed. Besides, Nick was always offering to let them borrow Victor.

Carl and Audra had kept their knowledge of her first pregnancy well guarded until after Thomas’s safe arrival. Ross and younger brother Brian seemed to have been bestowed with the more temperate Wheeler personality, allowing both to mix in easily at any of the households. But Carly, the little blond-haired, blue-eyed vixen that followed was another matter. Grandmother Victoria merely suggested it was fortunate that Victor and she were not the same age.

Nick was once heard to mumble something about the apple not falling far from the tree. The response to that observation ensured it was mumbled but the once. The matter was probably made worse by Nick and Jennie miraculously managing to produce a couple of even-tempered, delightful little girls. Dark-haired Nicki and blond-headed Ria were the adored younger cousins of little Leah, and by her constant pleadings were often overnight guests at the little house.

And, the little house no longer was as much so, expanding along with the family. Heath had added a second floor of bedrooms and a water closet. Indeed, there were occasions when all the Barkley children would spend the night with Sarah and Heath. Jarrod, Nick and Carl would shake their heads in wonder: their wives would offer fervent prayers for the safe delivery of all, especially Heath and Sarah.

Victoria just smiled. She’d seen all the children with those two and knew she could only believe it because she had seen it. Somehow they performed what could be seen only as magic. The children played together, enjoyed each other’s company, and complied with the rules and requests of their favorite aunt and uncle. Heath hadn’t lost the touch the family first had witnessed with Thomas as a baby, and Sarah seemed similarly gifted.

And then, unexpected, and uninvited, the first dark cloud rolled over the happy household.  


	6. Chapter 6

Both, Jennie and Sarah had announced recently they would be adding to their respective households. When Heath noticed Leah no longer begging for visits from her cousins, or games with her younger brothers, he wondered if she was overwhelmed with the rapidly expanding collection of children, and maybe feeling a little left out.

He talked it over with Sarah, and decided that he would invite her to spend a day with him, and see if he could get her to talk. The irony of Heath hoping to get this so-much-like-him child to open up was not lost on Sarah.

While Leah, now six, was a more-than-capable rider she loved nothing better than to ride with her Papa on his horse. A few days later, Sarah packed them a hardy lunch and watched them ride off  together. With hope in her heart and a smile on her face she sent them on their way, secure in the knowledge that whatever transpired her young daughter would enjoy the day with her Papa, and he with her.

She was, therefore, startled when late that afternoon, Nick dashed the Barkley buggy into the yard and helped Victoria down, while yelling for Sarah. He quickly explained that Victoria would stay with the boys and he was taking her to town. Heath and Leah were at Doc Merar’s. That was all they knew, having simply followed Heath’s messenger-delivered request.

That was the start. The weeks that followed were a seemingly endless search for answers to unanswerable questions. And then the trip to San Francisco, and the pronouncement from the specialist. Their beautiful little girl would not have the future they had envisioned.

She would not develop great friendships with school mates, have besotted admirers screened and rejected by a doting father, pursue whatever goals she set for herself, and maybe someday walk down the aisle on the arm of that same doting father to marry a man with whom she would create her own contented, happy family. Indeed, she would not live to see her next birthday.

Six months he said. Six months at most, and more likely two or three. There was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do. No treatment. Nothing to slow the progress, or change the outcome. His only advice, “Let her enjoy the time she has left as best she can. The last few weeks will find her too frail, too weak, and too exhausted to do anything more than sleep more hours than not.”

They took her to the seashore and let her play on the sand and run in the water, and when she was too tired to run another step they sat with her, held her, and with eyes brimming over, and tears rolling uncontrolled down their cheeks they told her the truth. Saying nothing at first, she then smiled, and reached over to wipe away their tears. She pleaded with them to be happy for her, happy that she was going to be with Grandma Leah, Grandfather Tom, and grand-maman and grand-papa Durand in the home of the God she consistently had been taught would be the final home of all those she loved.

Afterwards, they all went back to Uncle Jarrod’s to tell him and Auntie Sharon the sad news and persuade them to be happy for her as well. That night, settled in their room, with hearts breaking, minds numbed, and faith strong they cried until they could cry no more and then promised each other they would do whatever it took to make the rest of her time with them a time to remember—to look back on with joy and pleasure.

Looking back, what Heath could remember of that time, was the sheer effort it took to get through the days, and the relentless pressure of the worry for Sarah and the baby she carried. And then, how it all was, at the same time, buoyed and made somehow manageable by the wonderful woman he’d married and her undaunted faith in a God in whom she could trust as a final refuge for their treasured first-born.

And overriding it all, the endless joy and pleasure that same small child brought to their lives in the too-short remaining time. And he remembered their little Leah extracting a promise from him to always smile when he remembered her and be glad she had been his little girl.

He remembered those moments when he knew his faith did not, and could not, match Sarah’s. When indeed he wondered if he had maybe lost his faith completely. The times he questioned the wisdom and the love of a God who would do this to them. And he’d ask himself, was he being punished—were they all being punished. The thoughts bounced around inside his head like panicked bees in a bombarded hive.

 _Is our God seekin’ some sort of revenge for havin’ lost Sarah ta me? Was I meant ta have taken her when she came ta me, or was I meant ta have been stronger and sent her back ta serve her Lord as she’d originally seen fit._ He had no understanding of how he was to find answers to such questions. And the self inquisition continued.

_Maybe it isn’t that at all. Maybe it’s apt punishment fer all I’ve done before; the men I’ve killed, the pain and sorrow I brought upon Mama, my daring ta be born in the first place. Or maybe the name is cursed. Maybe I wasn’t meant ta have a Leah in my life._

Sometimes he thought he’d go crazy trying to get the answers. In those moments he felt so alone, so despairingly alone. These were not questions he could take to Nick—or Sarah—or anyone else he knew. These were his own tortures to endure.

And then the last day. They knew, somehow they knew, this was it. When the sunrise painted the sky the next morning she’d not be seeing it with them. They sent word to the rest of the family and soon all were gathered in the main room of the little house.

Leah was settled in her Papa’s arms with her Mama beside them on the settee. Her hair had lost its luster, her skin, stretched tight over frail bones, was sallow and grey. Her lovely hazel eyes sported a little life but no sparkle. Her breathing was shallow and labored and words came with much effort. Nonetheless, she looked up at him and asked for her favorite story. “Tell me about … the night I’s born.”

He smiled and started in on the story she, indeed all the family, knew by heart. It had been told to her countless times over her short life, and she never tired of hearing it again and again.

“It was a dark and stormy night … and then I held you in my hands and knew I was the luckiest man in the world—” he faltered, his voice hitching as he tried to get air beyond the impasse in his throat and continue. Sarah chimed in and took over, and when she could do no more, the other adults in turn added the remaining pieces, until they neared the end with Victoria sounding, “And then I went in to see your Mama and she and your Papa told me and Uncle Nick that your name would be Leah Victoria—” and she was cut off by the weak, rasping voice that finished with, “After … the best …  grandmothers … ever.”

Somehow, it was like she knew, and everyone in that room knew that she knew. It was time to say goodbye, and one by one they did so with a gentle hug and love-filled kiss. Her eyes pleading she looked up at her parents and asked, “’pecial favor?”

It was an old game, one they’d started long ago when it seemed the days were endless streams of requests from her. They made the rule. She would get one ‘special favor’ a day, so she had to make sure when she rendered a request it was something she really wanted. Once granted there were no more requests until the next day.

Heath answered as he always did, “As long as it is something possible for Mama or I to grant that causes no harm to you or others.” _I can’t grant a wish fer ya ta stay longer, or us ta go with ya._

She gave a weak nod. “If this … new … baby’s … a girl … name her for me,” she panted. Tell … her … the story … ’bout … the night … I’s born—” and a long pause followed with a barely audible, “Please.”

Heath and Sarah looked at each other, knew instantly what was flashing through the other’s mind. _Can I do that? Can I call another child Leah? Can I do it and not feel a great sadness every time I utter the name? Does she realize what she is asking? Oh God, it’s her last request. Please give me the strength._

Blue met brown and each knew they could not say no. They looked down at her, and together granted her the ‘special favor’. Heath whispered to her, “If it’s a girl, we’ll name her for you, and tell her the story of the night you were born.”

And then he drew her gently but firmly to his chest and felt her breathe her last. As his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, he reached out and pulled Sarah into the embrace, and let his tears soak her hair, while his shirt absorbed hers.

The subsequent days were a blur, one which never fully cleared. Heath remembered only brief flashes of events. Creating the small redwood coffin—they had decided long before that they would not turn her little body over to the undertaker. Laying her, dressed in her ‘bestest’ dress to meet her namesake, on the silk covered padded interior. Someone, probably Nick, securing the lid when he couldn’t make himself take that step. The lachrymose group in the family cemetery. Seeing the mound of earth the next day, or maybe the day after that, and knowing only that she was under there.

And Sarah. Somewhere, somehow, within all the blurring and chaos, there was Sarah. Always there. His rock. Sarah, who, finding him one day several weeks later, staring at the newly settled marker, was able to help him realize that she wasn’t down there.

Laying her head gently against his back and reaching her arms around his chest, she offered, “All of Leah that matters is all around us. She is with us, with those that have gone before, and everywhere else there is anything good to be had. She will be with us forever, and we will keep her alive,” she finished with a sustaining squeeze. He found himself taking in the first breath he could remember, could feel, in what seemed a very long time. He could breathe freely again, could see the beauty around him, could hear her laughter, see her smile—and her tears—and knew he could keep his promise. He would smile when he thought of her, and be glad that she had been his little girl.

One day, not long after, he found himself alone at the big house with just Silas. As was his want on such now-rare occasions he sat in the kitchen as Silas worked on the evening meal. And somehow he found himself sharing his seemingly-unanswerable questions with Silas, and wondering afterwards how he had thought there was no one to whom he could turn for help.

Silas, wonderful Silas. Silas who had been through more probably than any of them could imagine, who likely had questions none of them could conjure. Silas who had the only answers there were to be had.  

“Well Mr. Heath, I reckon sometimes our Maker leaves us ta use the brains he’s saw fit ta gives us. If we decides ta use them brains ta create questions without answers then we can expect our days ta be filled with pain and torment. I’s ’spose he be hopin’ we finds a way ta leaves such questions ta those what mights better be able ta think on ’em, while’s we puts our time inta doin’ the things he’s blessed us with the powers ta do best.” And he was right. No point in pondering the imponderables.

And then the new baby arrived. 


	7. Chapter 7

Their Leah Victoria Barkley, the second, had arrived. Amid the pain and distress associated with the birth of a girl, came also the acceptance that it was meant to be. They welcomed the addition to their little family, and gave thanks to God for her safe arrival, and fervent prayers that she would enjoy a long and rewarding life. They learned to call her Leah, and smile—smiles that went up and into their eyes. Jonathan and Jake were delighted—they had a sister again, and they were ready and willing to play the role of protective big brothers.

The Barkley empire expanded and prospered along with the Barkley families. Jennie had had a boy not long after Leah’s arrival, this one proving to be diametrically opposite to his older sibling. Audra and Carl added another son to their household, with Audra giving silent thanks that it wasn’t another girl. A little over a year after delivering Leah, Sarah presented Heath with another son Alfred (Freddie) Jarrod, named for both their brothers, hers not having survived his first year. And then a little over two years later another daughter, Hannah Marie, named for Sarah’s sister and one of the two women besides his mama who had held a special place in Heath’s young-boy’s heart.

At a year and a half, Hannah was a bundle of energy, enthusiasm, and delight. As the youngest Barkley, her doting aunts and uncles—and grandmother—catered to her every whim. And yet, nestled in the safety of the little house, Sarah and Heath kept her from being spoiled, and wondered how she would react to losing her special place when the newest baby arrived. Hannah hadn’t exactly been expected, but this one was very much a surprise. Growing up as they had, both Sarah and Heath had longed someday to have a large family. Their wish appeared to be coming true.

********

As the ranch and other holdings expanded and the families grew, so too did the bond between the rancher brothers. While they each had their areas of focus they nonetheless worked together, and indeed often spent their days toiling side by side. Nick still missed having his blond sibling under the same roof and so there were those evenings when he’d come by, collect his younger brother, and they’d head to town for a few hours of beer and poker.

Neither Jennie nor Sarah begrudged them these times together. And neither felt threatened with having their men spending an evening in a saloon. They knew that, while the girls therein might try to work their magic on the handsome cowboys, their men would stick to drinks and cards. It wasn’t questioned, it wasn’t discussed. It was understood. It just was.

And so it came that the two found themselves in Piper’s establishment one Saturday night after what had been a long and exhausting week—two problems seeming to replace each one solved. Jarrod had come in from Frisco earlier in the day to deal with some of the paperwork that piled up in his absence, and had declined their invitation to join them. He was looking forward to getting the work done, getting some extra sleep, and heading back to the town by the bay for Monday morning appointments.

“Boy howdy, Nick, I think I’m ready ta park myself in one o’ them chairs and start winning some o’ yer money.”

“Oh you think so do you. Well let me tell you, Boy, that after the week I’ve had I can feel my luck turning as I stand here.”

“Sorry ta hear that, big brother. I didn’t think yer luck could turn much worse,” Heath drawled, as he ducked a swat from his dark-haired partner.

They nodded to Piper, grabbed a couple of beers and looked for a table. Most of the tables looked full, but a local hand spotted them and called Nick over. “Lookin’ for a game,” he asked, glancing at his buddy. They had been filling in two strangers on the lay of the land, and figured even if they weren’t likely to end up the big winners with the Barkley whelp in the mix, at least it wouldn’t be just their money he took this time.

“Come on Heath, let’s get ta it,” Nick called, as he pulled up a chair for himself. Heath wasn’t too sure. Something didn’t feel right here.  _Can’t place these two but seems like I’ve had dealings with ’em before. Sore losers maybe._ Heath took another look around. _Don’t look like there’s much else ta choose from t’night. Guess I’ll just go along. Maybe even go a little easy on ol’ Nick t’night—let him win a hand or two._

As the night wore on it became clear that the strangers were more than adequate players—just not adequate enough to beat the younger Barkley. It also became apparent that the more they lost the more they drank … couldn’t have helped their game any, and wasn’t helping the locals who had the same inclination. It also didn’t help their disposition. The occasional snide remarks directed Heath’s way earlier on, were becoming more numerous. Nick was watching for any reaction, but didn’t see anything to be concerned about.  _Of course, Heath is playing poker so it’s not likely I’d be seeing any reaction if it were there. Oh well, nothin’ he ain’t heard before and seems ta have learned ta ignore. Still not sure how he manages that, but at least I can do as he asks and stay out of it._

Considerable time had passed, a few years maybe, since anyone had heckled Heath about his background.  _Well I’ve ignored it this long, should be good a little bit longer. Just gotta consider the source._   _Besides, if it does get outta hand, four to one seems like pretty good odds, and if it don’t work out that way, Nick’s here ta even things up a bit._ And with that thought, he glanced at his brother, flashed a quick half-smile, and went back to his cards.

A round later, Heath, cognizant of escalating jibes and the fact that it was getting late, finished his beer and suggested, “I think we’d better be headin’ home after this one Nick. Sun’s gonna rise at the same time whether we’re ready or not.” They laid their bets, made their plays and he on his turn stated, “Call,” and laid down his cards. “Two sevens … and two more. Four of a kind.” Looking at the others he reached for the pile.

And then it happened. It crossed over that line that he never could tolerate, only this time it went way too far over, and there was no letting it go, no holding back.

The nearside local tilted his chair back, focused on the center of the table and let the words flow off his tongue, “Sad to see what this town lets in ta walk its streets and take money from good, honest folk.” Smiling at his partner, he flicked his head towards Heath, and continued, “Yeah, the likes of that—Tom Barkley’s dirt and a jezebel’s son ta boot. Takes Satan’s spawn ta defile a nun—steal from God what’s his.”

Nick had almost forgotten how fast his blond brother could move. The words were still hanging in the air when the first punch landed. Nick hadn’t even seen him pull the guy out of his chair. All he’d seen was a blur.

The other three were on their feet in a flash. Nick, remembering his promise to Heath, decided to sit back and watch for a bit, see how it played out. The first guy was down and Heath had flicked the smaller of the strangers across one table to land in a pile of splintered wood from another, before he turned his attention to the other two. It stayed interesting for awhile, until the beleaguered group realized they needed to be a bit smarter about this and pool their resources, at which point Nick decided it was time to even the odds a bit. Besides, he knew he’d enjoy playing more than watching. There wasn’t a lot of furniture still standing when Heath caught the motion off to the side.

It had been awhile since Heath had been involved in any gunplay, and maybe the local guys hadn’t bothered to tell the strangers, or maybe they had just forgotten, but it was obvious when first the one, and then the other attempted to clear leather, they had no idea of the quickness of their opponent. The first guy had drawn his last breath before the tip of his colt had cleared his holster, and the second hadn’t had time to bring his up from vertical before the bullet knocked him back several feet and he collapsed in a heap to let his blood pool in the sawdust on the floor.

The local guys didn’t move. Nobody moved. Nick wasn’t sure for a moment if Heath wouldn’t shoot anything that moved, and he wasn’t about to risk finding out. Heath let his eyes run around the room, made sure no one else was interested in trying to take out him—or his brother—then slowly holstered his gun. He nodded at Nick, looked around for his hat, and settling it on his head moved to the table to collect his winnings. “Game’s over boys,” he drawled to the two locals, and then found his way out blocked by the sheriff.

“Evening Fred. I’m sure Piper can give ya all the info ya need. Me and Nick’s headin’ home.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Sheriff Madden quipped, “you’re coming with me.”

“NOW JUST A MINUTE HERE,” Nick barked. We didn’t start this, and they drew first. It was self-defense. Just ask Piper.”

“Might be. But right now I’ve got two corpses to deal with, a broken up saloon, and you two were part of it. You’re all comin’ with me until it’s sorted out. Now move,” and accentuating that directive with his gun, herded all four out and over to the jail.

By the time Jarrod found them several hours later, having been roused from bed by a worried Jennie when Nick failed to return at what could have been considered past late—even for him—Fred had statements from all, including Piper. The saloon keeper agreed that the initial fight had been provoked by the locals, and Heath had fired in self-defense. He would settle for retribution for damages and not press charges.

Nick was still ranting at having been locked up and Fred had thought about keeping him until morning, and then decided maybe it would be just as well to let Jarrod’s ears endure the assault. He collected the fine from Jarrod and reminded him there would be a need to settle up with Piper, before fetching the two cowboys from their cell. An animated Nick and a very subdued Heath followed their brother outside, and collecting their mounts headed for home. Jarrod said nothing until they had dropped Heath at his house and headed for the home place.

“Nick. Not another word. Stop. NICHOLAS!”

Nick scowled, turning towards Jarrod and demanded, “WHAT?”

Taking a deep breath in hopes of sounding calm and controlled, Jarrod responded, “Nick, I don’t know what happened in there—” before he was quickly cut off.

“DAMNED RIGHT YOU DON’T KNOW!” He paused a moment, shuddered slightly, then continued, “I’ve heard people hurl some mighty ugly slurs his way before, but nothing like what I heard tonight.” Then he slowly smiled, “You should’ve seen him Jarrod. I forgot how fast he could move, and how good he is with those fists of his. Not his fault those idiots went for their guns.”

“Nick, I’m not saying it was his fault, or yours,” he hastened to add when he saw Nick about to get up another head of steam. “But it happened, and I’m betting it’s not going to sit well with Heath. Fair fight or not, he takes no pleasure in killing anyone. We’re going to have to talk to him tomorrow and make sure he can put this behind him, because it just might be more than Sarah can help with.”

Suddenly subdued, Nick nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. And knowing our little brother he’s not going ta want ta tell Sarah what caused it. Some of what was said involved her. Heath won’t want ta share any of that.”

Surprised at the admission, Jarrod asked, “So what was said that set him off so bad. He seems to have gotten pretty good over the years of letting comments, however slanderous, slide.”

Nick told him, and from the look on Jarrod’s face realized that his older brother now understood. They rode the rest of the way home in silence. As they left the barn and headed to the house Jarrod smiled inwardly thinking how nice it would be to crawl into his bed without having to explain himself to a certain agitated red-head. And then thinking about his other brother, the smiled faded.

He had stopped at the little house to verify Nick and Heath weren’t there and let Sarah know he was checking on them. He knew she would have been worried as well, and wouldn’t have left the children alone to come ask for help. He realized he would have to speak to Heath about that situation as well. It really wasn’t good not to have any hands at his place, in case help might occasionally be needed. He knew Sarah had repeatedly declined live-in help with the house and children, although she had finally relented to having the eldest Willis daughter come during the day. But Heath could easily put up a small building to house one or two hands, or create sleeping quarters in the barn, and have them eat in the kitchen­—or even with the hands at the ranch.  _First, let’s deal with the ramifications from this evening, and then I’ll broach this subject with the stubborn blond. One battle at a time._

Little did he know that the opportunity to broach either topic with his blond-haired brother would be taken out of his hands in a way no one could have predicted.


	8. Chapter 8

As had been planned, Heath rode out the next morning. He had gotten word a couple of weeks previously of an upcoming horse sale near Napa—a breeder of good reputation—and thought he might find just what he needed to improve his current breeding stock. Knowing there were also other breeders in the area who might have stock he could use made the venture seem that much more worthwhile.

He had figured the trip would have him away for two or three weeks and initially he hadn’t been sure it was good timing. Sarah had urged him to go, reminding him that she had close to three months before she was due.

Circumstances having forced Heath to be fully present at the birth of their first child, he had made a special point of doing so at each subsequent birth. If he couldn’t bear a portion of the pain, he could at least ensure she wasn’t left to bear it alone. He wasn’t prepared to risk that eventuality this time.

As with everything he did, especially when it concerned his family or the ranch, he had given it careful consideration. Jonathan was very much his father’s son; calm, responsible, and helpful. Jake, most of the time, would do whatever would win him approval from his older brother. As long as Nick could spare a hand to come by once a day and check on the stock and fences, Jonathan had been an active enough part of the evening routine to be able to manage that on his own. If he found he needed help, Uncle Nick would never say no.

Leah, like her name-sake, was a pleasant, happy child, and a patient and loving playmate for her younger brother and sister. As such, she was a considerable help to Sarah who could see no reason for him not to go. In the end neither of them could envisage any harm in him being away and the decision was made. Heath would speak with Nick. He made his own decision that he would also speak with Jennie and Victoria to be sure they came by regularly to check on Sarah.

Heath had, in fact, left earlier than planned. He had things to work through, and wasn’t prepared yet to discuss it with anyone—not Sarah, not Nick nor Jarrod. The time away would give him the opportunity. It would also raise the ire of a couple of dark-haired brothers who found him unexpectedly unavailable when they arrived later that morning. 

********

And so it was that Sarah, quite unexpectedly, often found a Barkley female knocking on her door. Knowing her spouse as she did, she quite expected he had orchestrated these impromptu visits. Far from being upset at his meddling, she felt instead cared for and cherished. And, truth be told, she was happy for the company—and the help. Unbeknownst to Heath, the ladies had pulled Audra into the scheme, suggesting she and Sarah might enjoy the occasional day in town without children in tow. On these days, both Victoria and Jennie would stay at the little house, especially if they could not arrange to leave Victor at the main house with Silas or his father. Even so, neither wanted to tackle alone the combined responsibility of Carly and the other children.

While Heath would willing watch over their own children—in actuality secretly enjoying the opportunities—while Sarah went to town, somehow she felt more relaxed with this arrangement. So she truly did appreciate those few hours to shop in peace and quiet, and sometimes partake of lunch with her sister-in-law. Defying what others might think, she enjoyed Audra’s company. They may have been raised in vastly different circumstances, with unquestionably different backgrounds, but they both held an unbreakable bond … a heart-filled love … for a certain blond cowboy. That alone more than overcame any differences. And, Audra had taught Sarah some of the finer points of shopping—and not feeling guilty about it. Sarah’s wardrobe would never have become what it was without the unrelenting assistance of this particular blonde.

Nick did his part. While a hand was dispatched each morning to check over Heath’s place and take care of anything in need of attention, he made a point of taking himself over there most evenings. He quickly came to realize that Jonathan was more than able, not only in doing what was required, but in getting his little brother to help. Nonetheless he slept better at night knowing for certain that  _his_  little brother’s family was settled in at the end of the day, without cares or concerns.

He had broached, with Sarah, the subject of the night at Piper’s, as had Victoria. Both knew she could not have missed the scrapes and bruises Heath would have been sporting the next morning. He gave her no details—details he had shared only with Jarrod. He simply reassured her that Heath had been provoked beyond anyone’s limits and his actions had been not unreasonable. They could share with each other their concerns regarding the effect on the man they both loved, and acknowledge that he would work through most of it on his own and come to either of them only when he was ready. 

Victoria was able to help Sarah understand how it had been for Heath in his early days with them—even after it was clear to everyone that he had been unequivocally accepted by Nick. He still met with put-downs from others in the valley. And, most importantly, she shared how adept he had become at ignoring the comments … although she suspected that adeptness had been developed many years earlier. She let Sarah know that she had come to accept that when Heath did strike back he, without question, was justified. While she had not been apprised of what had justified the recent altercation, she was able to reassure Sarah that there would have been justification.

Sarah had her suspicions—unvoiced. She too was an astute observer of others, and had not failed to miss the occasional veiled  look or hushed comment from some of the townsfolk. Being well versed in the doctrine of turn the other cheek, like her husband, she too had developed a capacity to ignore. She would not grace them with a reply.

Thus it transpired that Heath’s extended absence afforded the Barkley ladies a golden opportunity to enrich their relationships with each other, and embed Sarah with increased insight into the internal workings of the man she, and they, loved. It reminded them of how easily they could let the days slip by—busy with children, households and outside activities—and neglect to connect with and enjoy each other. They vowed to make an effort to keep these impromptu visits part of their agendas in the months and years to come. Furthermore, it reinforced for Sarah the belief that she truly was a treasured member of that family Heath long ago indicated he would not relinquish—for anyone.

Nonetheless, in the wake of all the good that was accruing from Heath’s trip, Sarah counted the days until his return. She knew the children missed him and often found one or the other of them, throughout the day, standing and staring. She knew what the child was thinking, or more accurately, about whom the child was thinking. They wanted him home. She wanted him home.  _She_ missed him.

********

As anticipated, the trip met Heath’s needs. While he may not have articulated it, he was nonetheless well acquainted with the healing powers, for him, of nights spent sleeping under the stars and long days traveling solo on the back of a trusted steed. The combination had worked its magic.

By the time he reached the sale the random but dismaying thoughts that had rumbled about in his head began to settle into a coherent whole. He was able to make sense of what had happened—and develop some respect and tolerance for his actions.

_It weren’t like I went inta the place lookin’ fer trouble. Nick and I was just hopin’ fer a bit o’ fun, a chance ta shed the problems the week had delivered, just wanted a few hours ta enjoy each other’s company. Yeah, guess I coulda paid more attention ta the thoughts I had about ’em pair, but in truth nothing was tellin’ me they was that much trouble._

_And, yeah, I guess I lost my temper when that one jackal started spoutin’ off ’bout Mama and Sarah, but I can’t say, even now, havin’ time ta consider it that I’d let it go. Some things just can’t be let go._

_And I know I weren’t still in a temper when them fools pulled their guns. I didn’t shoot them in anger. They were threatenin’ my life—and Nick’s … well at least I thought so at the time—so there really weren’t nothin’ else I coulda done. Couldn’t risk just trying ta wound ’em, couldn’t risk they mighta got the chance ta get Nick. Man’s got a right ta protect himself and those he loves. And I’m not about to leave Sarah a widow and my kids without a father if I can help it._

_So, guess I can be sorry it worked out the way it did, sorry two men are dead who maybe didn’t need ta be dead. But I don’t need ta keep beatin’ up on myself, as Nick would say, fer doing what I had ta do. Guess I can learn ta live with it—and not be draggin’ it back home with me and upsettin’ ma family._

The sale had exceeded his expectations. He’d picked up some prime stock there and then headed out to some neighboring spreads to see what else might be available. He was not disappointed, in fact had found himself having to choose between several enticing prospects. Having acquired more than he’d come for, and worked through the grief with which he’d left home, he was impatient to get started on the trail back.  _Yup, I’m ready to be home again, the sooner the better._ Having camped for the night, a short distance from the last ranch, and with the rising sun now still a mere threat on the horizon he settled into the saddle and turned homeward with the string of new horses secured to the horn, and without the string of angst with which he’d departed therefrom.

Starting out he followed the main route, backtracking his outbound trip. Then, growing more impatient and feeling the need to be home, he made the decision to shorten the trip by going cross-country, stopping the night before only when there was too little light to travel safely. He’d been up before dawn to down a quick meal and break camp just as the rising sun began to push the dark away. He wanted to get home, and he’d make it today. He knew it would be late—he’d have to stop a few times and rest the horses—but he missed his family and he’d push on through to be with them by day’s end.

He’d met up with the road again about a half mile from his place and as he rounded the last bend heading toward the yard wondered at the lack of lights.  _They aren’t expecting me t’day, maybe they’re visitin’ at the big house._   _Oh well, just corral these ponies and head on o’er there. Nick’ll be looking fer a report anyway._

And then he smelled it—smoke. He picked up the pace, galloping past the barn and into the yard, his eyes desperately seeking what his gut said he wouldn't find. As confirmation appeared, he felt his heart drop into his stomach before launching into his throat and shutting off incoming air. He heard a voice, someone called to him. Someone took the lead line and led the horses away. He had no idea what was being said, what was happening around him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. All he saw was the smoldering ruins— his only awareness the acrid smell of lingering smoke.  _No. Please God no!_


	9. Chapter 9

McColl was there, shaking him, and urging him with his actions to get off his horse and take the fresh mount. Slowly, inexorably, he heard the words. “Heath. Heath! Sarah, the kids, they’re at the big house. She needs you. Let’s go.”  _Sarah. The kids. They’re not here ... not in that pile of rubble. They’re okay. They’re really okay. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe. Oh, thank you, God._

He looked at Mac, for the first time actually seeing him, then took the offered reins while the foreman threw Charger’s to the waiting hand. “Let’s ride.”

And then he was there. Flying off the horse, throwing open the front door, and stumbling into the foyer.  _Where were they?_ He didn’t see them _._  “SARAH. SARAH!”

After that it got a little fuzzy. Nick was there, and Jarrod, and they guided him upstairs, outside the room where Sarah lay. Doc Merar was there too, and Mother was trying to talk to him, “Heath, she’s okay, but the baby is very early. You need to calm down or you’re going to scare her. She knows the baby isn’t going to survive and she’s been praying you would make it here before it was too late. Heath look at me. Heath!” And then her hand against his cheek, and her eyes on his, helped the words penetrate. He pulled in a lungful of air and nodded to let her know he’d heard and he could go to her. His Sarah.  _She’s alright. Mother said she’s alright._

He sat at the edge of the bed and took her hand, as her eyes slowly opened and a sigh of relief escaped her. She smiled. His world brightened. She really was safe ... alive ... just fine. She reached down beside her and picked up a small bundle, slowly and gently handing it to him, “Our son. He’s beautiful, but too small and to weak to stay with us. He’s going to be with little Leah, but he needs a name.” She looked to him for confirmation and asked, “Lucas Heath Barkley? Little Luke, like we’d planned?”

Their eyes met and he nodded, “Our Little Luke.”

Taking him, he folded back the blanket to see the tiny head of blond hair, the pale skin, and then, as they opened, the Barkley-blue eyes.  _She’s right. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s just so incredibly small._   _And there seems ta be such long pauses between each breath he takes. He probably don’t have much longer._  He looked up from his tiny son to his beautiful wife. “Have the children seen him? Should we get them?”

Her tears started to flow, and as he felt Victoria take the baby he reached to gather Sarah into his arms and comfort her. He felt Nick’s hand on his shoulder—he didn’t see it, but he’d know that grip anywhere. Nick whispered—yes whispered, “I’ll get them.” Giving him another squeeze, and nodding to Sarah, he left.

Pushing back, and settling again onto the pillows, she looked deep into those blue eyes she loved. Knowing how much she was going to hurt him, and accepting that she must, she halting began her story.

“It was late. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get comfortable. He wouldn’t quit kicking and shifting around. I got up and went downstairs for a mug of warm milk and to see if moving around would quiet him. I settled into the rocker in the main room, and must have fallen asleep.” She paused, took in the life-sustaining air she needed to create the strength to continue.

“The heat and the smoke woke me and I headed for the stairs to get the children. Jonathan and Leah were near the bottom, but there was smoke and flames between there and the front door, so I steered them into the kitchen and out the back door, screaming at them to get out of the yard and for Jonathan to keep Leah well away from the house.”

Gathering another breath, as though she had just finished yelling, she forced herself to go on, “I went back inside to get the others. The smoke was getting thicker and it was getting hard to breathe. When I stumbled to the top of the stairs I could only feel my way along the hall to the first door. Hannah’s room.” Again, she stopped, and turned her eyes up to the ceiling as if to see there the picture she was trying to compose.

“I opened her door ...  the smoke poured out and flames built up. I crawled to her crib, lifted her out ... crawled back to the door. She was limp in my arms and I stumbled back to the stairs with her ... started down. Halfway down, someone shouted at me. I handed her to them and turned to go back up. They pulled me back, I fought them, screaming that Freddie and Jake were still up there.

“I couldn’t break their hold on me ... felt someone else push by me and then I don’t remember anything else. When I woke up I was outside, the night was lit up by the flames from the house, and I could hear Leah calling for me. I reached for her and felt Jonathan put her in my arms and wrap his arms around us both.” She looked hard at him again, and saw the pain and anguish she knew she’d created. And he hadn’t yet heard it all.

“Nick, I heard Nick shouting orders and called for him. I wanted the other children with me. Nick came. He held me ... and he told me.” She was now forcing the words past the sobs that were threatening to take over.

“It was ... the three Larkin boys ... that had found me ... found us. Heading home late ... they saw the smoke and flames. Ed got me and Hannah outside ... Will and Joe went back for the boys,” she stopped.  _Oh my Lord how do I tell him, how do I say the rest? Please, give me the strength._

Heath saw the pain and sadness in her eyes, and knew what was coming, knew and didn’t want to hear it, didn't want to know—and knew he must. He reached for her hand, folded the fingers over, and drew them to his lips, holding them tightly there—keeping him silent while he waited for her to finish.

“It was too late. Just like Hannah the smoke had been too much ...”  she forced out the words. With her other arm she grabbed his shirt and pulled herself up and onto his chest, where she choked out the last of it, “They ... rescued ... the ... bodies.”

As he wrapped his arms tightly around her trembling body she drew on his strength and courage to help her finish it, “I wouldn’t believe him. I think I remember pounding on him. I’m sorry if I hurt him. He didn’t deserve that,” barely whispered. Holding tight, she paused for a bit, gathering another sustaining breath, and another.

“And then I was here, Howard and Mother were trying to get me to cough and clear the smoke from my lungs. Howard was afraid for the baby,” she drew in a deep breath holding it, until it escaped in little bits with the remaining words. “He did everything he could ... by late this afternoon I could feel the pains ... I knew this baby was coming.”

In utter anguish she pushed back and looked up at him. “Oh Heath, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t save him. I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry ... so very ... very sorry,” and flowing with the words, her tears poured forth.

Drawing her head back down and cradling her into his chest, he finally spoke, “Shhhsh, shhhsh. It’s okay. I love ya Sarah. I’ll always love ya. It’s going ta be okay. Not yer fault. I should’ve been home. Never should’ve left ya alone. It’s okay. It’s okay,” and he tightened his hold on her while her sobs rent the air, and her body shuddered with the grief and pain.

In time, the sobs became gasps for air and then deep, hitched breaths as she slowly calmed. Then Nick was there with that steady, solid grasp on his shoulder again, and his quiet comment, “I’ve got you—” and the little shake. “The kids are here. Howard says it’s time.”

Suddenly Jonathan and Leah were on the bed trying to hug and be hugged by both, their faces wet with tears. He pulled them into his arms as Victoria returned Little Luke to Sarah. He swiveled them to see their little brother, to say hello and goodbye.

They wanted to hold him, and they each got to nestle him in their arms. Then, one arm around Sarah and the baby, and his other around Jonathan who held Leah, they watched as Father Michael baptized their tiny son in time to administer last rites. He had come too quickly to them, and was as quickly gone.

The days following came and went in a whirlwind of preparing small bodies for burial, caring for those that had survived, and dealing with the funerals. There were no thoughts, no feelings, just a vast expanse of numbness. Against Howard’s advice Sarah insisted she was not allowing her children to be laid to rest without her presence. Heath took her, he carried her to the gravesites, and he held her tight enough to keep her from collapsing. It was so little, so insufficient. 

He remembered almost nothing of what came afterwards as people came to the house and offered condolences. At some point he carried Sarah upstairs, forcing her to rest. And he recalled seeking out the Larkin boys—he had to thank them for what they had done. Without having risked their lives he might well have lost Sarah. Without their actions he would never have been afforded the chance to hold his children one last time, would have been deprived of the opportunity to look once more upon their faces. And, he would not have had that small measure of peace in knowing they had been found in their beds, seemingly having suffocated as they slept—not having died in pain and fear. How does one adequately thank another for such a gift? They had reassured him that they considered it a blessing and privilege to have been placed in a position to be as helpful as they were, and shared how sincerely they regretted not having been able to do more.

********

They settled into the big house, and tried to put their lives back together, neither being sure they could survive this blow, and both knowing they had no choice but to do so. They may have lost four children but they had two that sorely needed them—needed them now more than ever. They responded to the screams in the night with patience and love, until with time those ceased, at least for Leah.

As the months slipped by everyone could see her start to recover, see her smiling, hear her laughter, watch her engage in play, and rejoiced in the sparkle that came back into her bright blue eyes. And while they watched her slowly emerge into life once again, they simultaneously watched Jonathan seemingly disappear.

While nightmares were no longer a daily occurrence for him, they continued to disturb his sleep far too often for his general well-being. Heath one day shared his despair with Victoria.

“Mother I don’t know how ta help him. It seems all I’m able ta do is go ta him, be with him, tell him I love him. It’s not enough. It’s not really helpin’, and I’m afraid we’re losin’ him too.”

“Oh Heath, I’ve never known a child that doesn’t respond to patience and love. Don’t assume it’s not helping. As long as he continues to accept what you give, you can assume it’s a help to him, at least in that moment. And, in those moments he needs you. Being there, being willing to be there, is what you can do for now. For now, it has to be enough. You’re a wonderful father—always have been. Trust yourself to do what he needs.”

One day Victoria came upon Sarah watching Heath play with Jonathan and Leah in the back garden. Hearing her approach, Sarah turned sorrowful eyes on her mother-in-law, and shakily whispered, “I see him with them and he looks happy and yet when I look deep into his eyes I see pain and sadness. I expect that but I also see loneliness—he misses the others. It’s so unlike Heath—to dwell on what he doesn’t have rather than on what he does. It scares me.” Not knowing what to say, and suspecting there was nothing to be said, Victoria gathered this much-loved daughter into her arms and offered the only form of comfort she had to give.

Sarah’s fears were not unfounded. Throughout it all Heath took the pain and sorrow, buried them deep inside and raged at the God he no longer understood, or trusted ... and maybe even hated. He had made a deal. He would let his God have his little Leah, he’d accept it, he’d live with it. He’d continue to love and worship and let himself be blessed with what had been left to him: his precious Sarah, his other children, his loving family. He’d let himself be content and happy. In return he asked only that God take no more. And God had reneged.

With neither faith nor trust to hold him, Heath turned ever inward, and ever more afraid. They had found empty containers near the burned out house, convincing even the sheriff that this fire had been no accident. They left questions, but no answers. No one to blame, no one on whom to seek justice, let alone revenge. It was paralyzing. He rode out to his work each day under an oppressive weight, not sure if what was left of his little family would be there when he returned. And he refused to ride more than an hour or two away.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick was getting frustrated. Someone needed to get over to the horse auction in Modesto, and someone needed to follow up on checking in with the mines. The responsibility for both those areas belonged to the same someone, and Nick knew who that someone was. And he was refusing to go anywhere. One day, tired, worried, and at the end of his tether, he lit into his younger brother.

“Damn it Heath. I’ve never known you for a coward, so stop acting like one. I can’t make all the trips and I can’t be in two places at once. I need you ta shape up, Boy.” He paused to inhale before resuming his rant. “So maybe you have reason ta be scared ta leave them, but we’ve got men here. Men who’d die before they let anything happen ta any of the family, yours included. If whoever might try again gets past all the men, they’ll get past you as well. If they ain’t safe here without you, they ain’t safe with you either,” he added, jabbing a finger into Heath’s chest. Then taking a deep breath and shaking his head, he stood dejected as the blond snarled “Get yer spurs out o’ me,” and walked away.

Sarah, having heard the outburst, angled up to Nick and took his arm. He looked at her and sighed again, “I can’t get through ta him. He’s useless ta me the way he is, and what’s more, he’s useless ta himself. He’s always shown such courage—long before he ever came here. Where has it gone. Why has it deserted him, now when he needs it most? And why in the blazes can’t I find some way ta help him,” he growled.

“Oh Nick. Don’t you see. It’s not that he lacks courage, it’s that he has too much and it keeps him alive and keeps him going in the face of crippling, killing pain. Without the courage he’d have lain down and died months ago. I don’t know how to help either, but I know we can’t give up on him. He’s too important to both of us,” she asserted gazing up at him with a wistful smile.

Nodding slowly, he sighed, “You’re right, as always. I’m sorry Sarah. I just feel so helpless. Guess I’m not handlin’ this too well myself."

“He asks for so little, Nick. Have you ever known him to ask for too much, to take more than he gives?”

“Well, I can think of a time when I thought he was askin’ for way too much,” he grinned, “but you’re right again.” His grin faded. “He’s given back far more than he’s ever taken,” he stated mournfully as he looked down at her.

“He’s not wanting to hurt you—not wanting to hurt anyone. And the person he seems to be hurting most of all is himself. Somehow we’ll find a way to help.”

He nodded, then smiled before allowing, “ I think I owe a certain someone an apology … if he’ll accept it.”

“He’ll accept it. Don’t forget, he cares about you every bit as much as you care about him.”

Later that afternoon, tension seemed to fill the parlour in which Jennie and Sarah were sitting. Sarah wondered on it, but chose to remain quiet. It was not without reason that Jennie was well suited as Nick’s wife for she was soon unable to maintain the silence.

“Nick’s not really angry with Heath, you know,” she started, and then as suddenly stopped when she noted the look of surprise from Sarah. The color in her face coming up to match that of her hair, she confessed, “I happened to be at the window overlooking the yard this morning when Nick attacked Heath. I wasn't actually spying. I saw you talking to him afterwards—couldn’t hear what was said.  I just wanted you to know that he’s just frustrated and it just comes out as anger.”

“Oh my, Jennie,” Sarah laughed, “you needn’t worry. Nick might bluster and bellow, but no one who’s spent any time around him, or seen him with Heath, could fall for that act. He’s worried about his brother. He has reason. I’m worried too, and I suspect the same is true of the rest of the family.

“When I first met Heath, back in Virginia City, there were times when he felt like he belonged to no one, and those were the times when he was most lost. It’s almost like those times have settled around him again. I can’t penetrate that cloak of darkness right now. Neither can Nick, and that was all he was trying to do this morning. I’m not angry with Nick … I know how helpless—and scared—he’s feeling right now. We both love Heath—we both want him back.” She looked up at Jennie, her eyes glistening, as she blinked back the tears.

Like the man to whom she was married, Jennie’s heart melted at the sight of Sarah’s pain, and she hurried over to take a seat beside her on the settee. Pulling her into a sisterly embrace she offered murmurs of comfort and encouragement, assuring her that they were all there for her—and for Heath.  _I’d whack him upside the head if I thought it might help. She doesn’t deserve this … not on top of everything else she's had to endure. But then, he doesn’t either …._

********

The weeks continued to fly by as Sarah felt Heath slip further and further away. Night after night he lay beside her, but he no longer turned to her, no longer sought comfort or pleasure with her. She began to believe he blamed her for the loss of his children. Blamed her for not being strong enough, for succumbing to the smoke, for not saving them … for failing at the only thing that really mattered. She'd remember how he'd told her his wife was expected to protect their children—told her before she agreed to marry him.

She’d wake in the night to find him standing slumped against the window frame staring out into the darkness and wonder if he was searching for something out there in the great beyond, or for something within—equally beyond reach. Then later she’d awaken and find him back in bed and reach out tenderly to touch him. She always found him cold to touch and she’d pull the covers up higher over his chest and tuck them in snug and tight around him, hoping to infuse some warmth—to warm his beleaguered soul. Morning would come and she’d realize she’d not been successful and her own soul would weep—not for what they’d lost but for what they were losing.

She had no one to whom she could turn, for the only source of comfort was also the source of her pain. The despair enveloped her like a blanket of cold winter snow until she felt she might suffocate in the accumulation. Still she could not give up—not on him nor on them, or the love they once held close and warm. She would find a way, a way to reach him. She would get him back—she had been without him once and she would not be without him again.

Then one day, at her lowest ebb, she came to realize she was not alone in her worry and despair. She reminded herself she had her faith, her God had not deserted her. In that moment she knew there was hope, and in knowing sought help the one place she was certain it would remain available. She went to Father Michael.

“He’s gone from me Father. He’s just gone. He no longer attends this church or that of his family. He’s like a walking shell, a very thick shell that I cannot crack to reach the goodness inside. Please help me … help him … help us,” she pleaded as the tears welled in her soft, brown eyes and spilled down her cheeks. He wrapped her in his arms as she sobbed and assured her he’d find a way to help.

Thus it was that one Sunday after early morning services, having spoken to her beforehand, the good Father found himself approaching a quiet spot by the side of a meandering stream, back of a copse of protective trees. There he found him … his line in the water and his mind in the clouds. Having been warned by Sarah, he knew better than to come up upon him unannounced. He called out a quiet greeting and once aware Heath knew of his presence, ambled up to stand beside him and look out at the water and the land beyond.

“I’m thinking you’re feeling about as lost as that fish over there on the grass. I’m not going to ask you to talk to me. I’m guessing you don’t feel much like talking. But I’m hoping you might be willing to listen, at least for a little bit. And, I’m hoping I don’t go home with a black eye, or worse.”  He glanced down at the blond cowboy and noticed that brought a shadow of the half smile the Father was used to, and a quiet chuckle as well. But nothing more.

He considered it invitation enough and took a seat beside him on the bank, putting an arm across his shoulders. He felt the almost imperceptible stiffening of his muscles and the seemingly concerted effort to keep his eyes forward and his face blank.

“Heath, sometimes there’s no way to make sense of things that happen to us. You have to know that more than most, because there’s no doubt that far more has happened to you than to many men twice your age. And a whole lot of it not good. Sometimes we remember, and blame God, only for the bad He’s brought upon us, and forget there’s been good as well. In so doing we forget to thank Him for that good. And it’s easy in the midst of it all to forget that we can’t recognize the one without having experienced the other.

“Have you forgotten all the good, my child? Has it really deserted you? I used to look on you and Sarah and think God must have been happy in His Heaven the day He brought you two together. And I’m guessing He’s not feeling too happy these days when He sees the way you’re now rejecting her, the pain you’re bringing to her.”

That got his attention. He swiveled around, his eyes snapping at the priest, as he snarled, “I ain’t rejectin’ Sarah, I’d ne’er reject her. What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“She thinks you are. She thinks you blame her for what happened, for not saving your children, for bringing this unbearable pain to you. She thinks you don’t want her anymore. Sooner or later the doubt and the guilt will devour her, and you’ll lose her too. Is that what you want?”

Heath stared at him, long and hard. Then sucking in several ragged breaths he began to pant as his head dropped and his shoulders started to shake. As the tears began to fall, the sobs came. Father Michael gathered his lost sheep into the fold of his arms and gave him shelter while he cried out the pain, the loss, the defeat and the anguish. As it washed over him, came gently into the light of day, the dark cloud slowly lifted and he once more began to inhale deep, quiet mouthfuls of fresh-feeling air. Eventually, in control again, he looked sadly at the Father, and quietly asked, “I don’t blame her, ne’er saw it as her fault. What do I do? How do I fix it?”

“Talk to her son. Just talk to her. She’s there for you. She’s never gone anywhere, and she doesn’t want to lose you. She needs to know you want her as much as she wants you. Just talk to her. It’ll do you both a world of good.”

Giving his shoulder one last squeeze and an encouraging pat on the back, he left him to his fishing and contemplation.


	11. Chapter 11

Heath was still mulling over his plans as he dismounted Charger and led the big bay into the barn. Having settled him in his stall he decided to take the time to ready one piece of his plan, before gathering up his things and heading for the side door of the house. Letting himself into the kitchen he found Silas back from church, busy as usual, and traded him a string of cleaned fish for some much needed assistance.

As he left the kitchen he missed seeing the smile that graced the loyal man’s face and the sparkle that had returned to his eyes. Suddenly Silas’s day was looking much brighter. His boy was gonna be okay.

Searching for his children he found them busy in the designated playroom, already shed of their Sunday best. Picking up Leah and settling into a comfortable chair, he explained that he was wanting to spend the day with Mama, and he hoped they wouldn’t mind. He informed them that Silas was looking forward to having their help with some things he had planned, and the rest of the family would be home from church before long. They would not be alone, and they would be well cared for. He promised to bring their mama home safe and sound.

Leah turned her face to him and he saw the happiness and relief that rested there. He got a nod and a big smile that went with it. “Papa, do you suppose Mr. Silas might be wanting some help making cookies?”

“I’m guessing that just might be one o’ the things he has planned—unless o’ course it’s a chocolate cake with all the trimmin’s,” he teased, and felt her shiver with anticipation.

Jonathan fixed his emotive blue eyes on Heath’s and it was as if they looked into each other’s souls. The young boy could tell something about his papa had changed, and in his very core he knew it was a good thing. If this is what Papa needed to do he’d not stand in the way. “I’d be happy to help Mr. Silas, Papa.”

Although happy was the word he used, Heath did not miss the sadness in the voice, or in the eyes. _I need ta do somethin’ ’bout that too ... and soon. Sarah first. Then maybe we can work on Jonathan t’gether._ He nodded at his son and responded, “Thank you son,” he winked gently, “it’s gonna get better. You’ll see.”

He found Sarah in their room changing out of her Sunday clothes. Assuring her that the children were in good hands he begged her to come with him. Looking at him and for the first time in months seeing life in his eyes, she agreed.  _Maybe Father Michael succeeded where we have all failed. Thank you my Lord._

He retrieved the earlier-harnessed buggy, now laden with Silas’s contributions and helped her up into the seat. Joining her he took up the reins and headed out of the yard. They passed the family headed back from church and he acknowledged them with a quick two-fingered wave, eliciting the same thought from all.  _Something has happened. Oh, please let this be what we’ve been waiting for._

Retracing his way from earlier that morning he soon had a blanket and picnic laid out in the shade of the trees, by the meandering creek. He took her in his arms, eased her to the ground and held her tight for what seemed an eternity, while he let himself feel the nearness of her, how she fit to him, her unique fragrance, and the rightness of it all.

Then holding her far enough away to look into her eyes he said, “We gotta talk. But first ya gotta eat. Let me feed ya, we got all afternoon,” and he reached over, plucked a raspberry out of a bowl and eased it between her lips. He persisted with bits of chicken, spoons of potato salad, slivers of cucumbers and raw carrots, more berries, and whatever else came to hand in no particular order, until she started laughing and finally insisted on sitting upright.

“Stop Heath, or I’m gonna choke. I can’t swallow and laugh at the same time. And I’m not a child, I can feed myself,” she laughed again. That real laugh he’d not heard in a long while, the one that made her eyes shine and the space around her glow.

“Okay,” he agreed, “if yer sure. Besides I’m a might hungry myself, so I’d be glad ta join in this bounty.”

After they finished and repacked the little food that remained, he took her back into his arms and laid her down again where he could look into those loving brown eyes. And then he started to talk.

“I’m so sorry Darlin’. Father Michael told me what ya’d been thinkin’ and I’m just so sorry. I ne’er blamed you. Never. Ya gotta believe me. The only person I ever blamed was me. Me fer leavin’ ya alone, fer not bein’ there fer ya ... sometimes I could hardly breathe when I’d think o’ how close I came ta losin’ ya. That, I’m sure, I would ne’er survive. Yer my life. Yer everything ta me.” He paused to be sure she had heard and understood—really understood.

“I ne’er meant ta hurt ya, and now I realize that’s all I’ve been doin’ these last months. Ya weren’t ta blame fer none o’ it. None o’ this would’ve happened if it weren’t fer me. Someone out there was tryin’ ta get me, and they went after ya ta do it. Ya and the children.

“I ain’t ne’er goin’ ta escape my past.”

When she reached out and put her fingers to his lips to silence him, he took her hand, and looking woefully forlorn told her what he’d not been able to tell her before. He told her what the man had said in the saloon the day before he’d gone to buy the horses—before the fire.

She looked at him with tears rolling down her cheeks and sought to reach him, to help him understand, “God’s not angry with you for having me. He never would have blessed us with the love we have for each other if He were angry with you, or with me. I don’t always understand His thinking either, but I’ve never believed He didn’t mean for us to be together. And I’ll never believe He didn’t mean for us to have the happiness we’ve had, and the happiness we will have. I don’t know why He chose to take from us what He did, but I do know He has a reason for leaving us what He has—our unending love for each other, the beautiful children that are still with us, and the memories that can never be taken. As long as we have each other we can survive anything God chooses to give us. I believe that Heath. I need you to believe it too.”

He drew her to him and held her close, while, for the second time that day in this same place, his tears drenched another. She held him, felt his shoulders tremble, and rubbed her hand slowly round and round on his back, easing out the pain and delivering the comfort that had long been rejected.

She realized she’d been in church twice today—this morning in her hers and now in Heath’s. Alone in this quiet, secluded space, awash with the peace that nature brings, she let them worship. As he calmed, and she lied back, Heath told her to rest and he’d watch over her.

“No Heath”, she protested. “Lay yourself here with me and we can both rest. Our God will watch over us”.

And so he drew her close once again and they gave into the exhaustion that had been such a part of them for too long. As the afternoon waned they awoke, each feeling rested for first time since the fire.

Sarah snuggled into him and pulled him tight. “I can feel them, can you,” she asked. “They are here with us,” and she looked up and watched the emotions play across his face until he nodded.

Holding him close again she began to talk about them, all the wonderful little things she remembered about each, the joyous times they had together, and the love she had for each and every one.

“It’s hardest to feel Little Luke,” she admitted. “Maybe because he was with us for so short a time.”

Heath smiled sadly at the memory, and began to share, “I remember how small he was and yet how perfect. And, how helpless I felt at not bein’ able ta save him. Lyin’ here now I can feel him in my arms—I can feel all o’ them. The first time I held them, and all the times after.”

They continued to share all the bittersweet memories and with the sharing the pain slowly eased and they rediscovered the depth of the love they had for each other—and for the children still with them and the ones they had lost.

Not wanting to leave anything unsaid Heath started in again, “I’ve felt like such a failure all these months. How does a man let somethin’ like this happen ta his family. It’s my job ta keep ya all safe. Of all the jobs I’ve got ’round here that’s the only one that really matters. And I didn’t do it.” He slowly exhaled the deep breath he had taken in, as he sought absolution from her. And got it.

“Oh my cowboy. You did everything you could to take care of our family, everything. Sometimes things are not in our control. I couldn’t save my parents, or my sister, all those years ago. They couldn’t save my little brother or my sister. They couldn’t save each other. We have to believe God has a plan and all He expects of us is to do our best. Sometimes it won’t seem like enough to us, because we don’t know His plan. We’re not perfect. He knows that, and He doesn’t demand it of us. Anymore than I demand it of you.” She looked long and hard into the eyes she loved and waited for the prolonged blink that told her he had heard, really heard her.

“You’ve never done less than your best for me, for our children, for your mama, and for your family. Please let go of that heavy cloak of guilt. It keeps the sun from reaching your soul, and the rays from shining out to us. It’s what I’ve missed most of all—those wonderful rays of sunshine that fall upon us whenever you are near. I want them back. Please bring them back. Please. It’s all I need of you,” she pleaded.

He stared at her, carefully considering her words, letting himself take them in, before he spoke, “Ya didn’t deserve what I’ve put ya through these last months. Not you, not the children, not the family,” and then pausing for a moment, and letting that old, light feeling once again begin to invade his body, he looked at her, his blue eyes twinkling as he added, “not even Nick deserved that.” He chuckled, and then started to laugh, and hearing the joy and seeing the brightness once more, Sarah laughed along with him. 

She could feel it. They were becoming whole again, and she could  _feel_ the love for him once more. Gazing deeply into his eyes, reading what she saw there, she knew he could feel it too. They were going to be okay.

“Heath?” she looked closely at him, not quite sure she should ask, but so much wanting this last little piece. Getting a nod from him, and what looked like acceptance and an invitation to continue, she did so. “Will you take me to the cemetery? I want to visit with our children for a bit, and then I want to go—” and here she hesitated, not sure of his reaction.


	12. Chapter 12

“Wanna go where, Darlin’,” he asked with such warmth and caring she knew it was safe to finish.

“I want to go to the house—our house,” she clarified.

Concerned, he asked, “Do you think it’s wise?”

“Oh, no, I’m not sure of that at all but I feel it’s something I need to do. I’ve not been able to make myself go back, and I need to. But I want you with me. I can’t do it alone.”

He pulled her to her feet and into his chest as he rested his cheek on her head, and let the love he felt for this remarkable lady flow through his every pore, before he answered, “We can go wherever ya want, and ya’ll ne’er again have ta go anywhere alone. I’m here. I’ll not leave ya again.”

They gathered up the basket and blanket and were soon in the buggy heading to the family plot. Once there, they tidied up around the little graves and spoke again of those buried there. Spoke of the good times, the happy times, and the joy that was coming back into their life. And then they headed for what was left of their little house.

It was a sad sight. As he helped her down from the buggy, Sarah faltered for a moment, her eyes snapping shut at the sudden memory and the unspeakable terror. He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, feeling her tremble and holding her steady.

“Ya okay. Ya wanna go?”

She caught her breath and slowly opened her eyes again, taking in the blackened ground, and the standing chimney ... all that was left of what had once been their sanctuary.

She shook her head, “No. I’m okay. Let’s walk over. I need to see it,” and taking his hand she began to move forward. He trailed along, not taking his eyes off her.

And then standing there, up against the reality of it, seeing it for what it was, she stated, “I’m not sure now why I was so frightened of it. It’s not quite what I’d imagined,” she added, not sure what it was she had imagined.

“Nick and a few o’ the men came over and cleaned it up. Got rid of the burned rubble and put the things that could be salvaged inta the barn. Not sure what’s in there. I’ve not looked. Some o’ the furniture, and a few little things that escaped the flames. Not sure if they cleaned them up or just stored them as they were. Never bothered ta ask. Guess it’s time I thanked them for doin’ that.” He somberly added, “Guess it’s time I thanked Nick fer a lot o’ things.”

“Maybe it’s time we both did. But one more thing Cowboy,” and looking at him this time she knew she may be asking for more than he could give, but she had to know. Getting a crooked grin from him, she continued, “Can we rebuild it? Can you bear it? I want to come home. It’s time for us to bring our children back home, start living our life again. Can you do it Heath?”

She waited as she watched the emotions run rampant across his face, and his eyes lift to the vespertinal sky. And then she saw it, saw the light come into the eyes, the peace settle on his visage, and knew his answer before he spoke it, “Yes, it’s time ta come home.”

He pulled her to him again, and held her close, breathing in her sweet scent, no longer smelling the smoke that had assailed him every time he thought of coming here.

“It’ll take a few months. I’ll have to order the materials, and work on it when there’s time free from other things. I need ta start pullin’ my weight around the ranch, give Nick the help he needs and deserves, but I can do it. And it won’t have that squeaky step ta be avoided when we wanna sneak upstairs without bein’ noticed,” he chuckled, and bent to brush his lips against hers. An action she returned with enough ardor to get his attention and keep it, while the sky began to paint the color back into their world.

********

The children came running, happy to see them, as they pulled up in front of the big house. Truth be told the adults who quickly gathered were more than a bit relieved to see them safely home as well. As Victoria watched she could see that things had changed.  _They’re happy again, really happy. They’re together again._  It was all that mattered. She urged them into the house and suggested they wash up as dinner was waiting.

“Oh goodness, Mother, it’s late. You didn’t wait on us did you? I’m sorry we’re so tardy, but it’s all Heath’s fault. Couldn’t seem to get that horse moving,” and she flitted out of his grasp and ran lightly up the stairs.

Reaching up to plant a kiss of relief on his cheek Victoria said, “I hope you had a nice day. Silas assured me everything was under control,” and with a glow in her eyes, and a lightness in her heart, she added, “Welcome back, son.” They both knew what she was saying.

“All’s fine, Mother,” he offered and winked at her to let her know his words rang true. “I’ll go wash and be right down,” and glancing at Nick, a smile on his face, he added, “I’m starved.”

Even Victor’s appearance from around the corner, covered in who knew what, could not dampen anyone’s good humor.

“Well let’s see,” said Nick, scooping him up, “horse trough or tub?” Bounding up the stairs to protests of “No Pappy, no don’t,” he disappeared down the hall with a full-dimpled smile upon his face. His little brother was back. Nothing else mattered—even this mess in his arms. Heath was with him again. This was a meal he would long remember.

Hearing Victor’s pleas, Heath chuckled. He well remembered how, when Victor first started to talk, Jarrod had deftly transferred the Pappy moniker back to its originator and somehow made it stick. Nick’s protests likely went unacknowledged in large part because Jennie enjoyed seeing his reaction as much as the rest of the family. Not one to give in gracefully, he could still be found, on occasion, addressing his elder brother with the title, which only served to confuse his children and elicit hearty laughs from all others.

Sunday dinner was usually a meal to be appreciated, but on this Sunday Silas had outdone himself. It was like he knew there would be something to celebrate, something beyond having Jarrod and his family, as well as the Wheelers here this night. As he served the food and listened to the happy conversation, the light bantering, and the laughter, he quietly added his thanks to their Maker for the privilege of serving this wonderful family—and for bringing his family back to him, especially the young man who held a place of honor in the old man’s heart.  _Yessiree, it’s a day ta ’member. Not likes I’s could e’er be forgettin’ it._

When everyone had had their fill of apple pie and chocolate cake they moved into the gun room, where Nick and Heath paired up to soundly beat Carl and Jarrod in three consecutive pool games. _Yup, my little brother’s definitely back._

“Boy howdy, Jarrod, yer eyes a little off tonight? Been staring at all those papers too long t’day? Well hope you got ’em all in order ’cause ol’ Nick here and I won’t have much time fer paperwork over the next while. I’ve got horse auctions to check out and then a tour of the mines past due. That should leave enough around here ta keep Nick out o’ the house and out o’ trouble ’til I get back.” With that he gave Nick a good thump on the back, and concluded, “Lots ta do tomorrow ta get ready if I’m takin’ off the next day, so I’m off to bed. Goodnight,” and bending down to give Victoria a kiss, he took his wife’s hand and led her out of the room and up the stairs.

Those left downstairs soon heard a door softly close.

Heath started to lead Sarah across the floor of their room, before pausing. Dropping her hand he stepped back toward the door, and reaching out quietly turned the key in the lock. Deftly moving back to her, he gathered her close and lowered his lips to hers, as one hand stretched up and began removing the pins in her hair until it began to drop slowly down onto her back and shoulders. He wove his fingers through the soft, flowing locks and wondered anew at the fortune that brought her into his life.

“I thought you were tired, wanting to get to bed early,” she murmured.

“I do believe I said I wanted ta get ta bed … don’t recall sayin’ anythin’ ’bout bein’ tired,” he replied, as he deepened the kiss.

Running his hands down her back he questioned, “Want some help with the buttons?”

She laughed. Again, he felt it roll over him, and seep into every pore—that wonderful, light, fun-loving laugh he remembered—and cherished.  It seemed such a long time since he felt her laughter, felt how it belonged to him, how she belonged to him, and how that made it so extraordinarily special. A laugh unlike any other.

In time she was out of the dress and in her chair, carefully removing her jewelry and the remaining hairpins. As she reached for her brush he gently took it from her and began to brush the dark tresses, savoring an activity that he once took for granted, and now recognized as the privilege it was.

In time they made their way into bed and under the covers, and then something happened. Rather than their usual slow, gentle, lovingly coming together, this was desperation. An insatiable need, a hunger, demanding to be met. It provided no sense of joy or pleasure, just a feeling of being sated, after which he fell instantly asleep.

Heath awoke in the last vestiges of pre-dawn and remembering the previous night found himself in a state of both wonder and shame. Shame that he’d used her in such a way, and wonder that she’d allowed it. For a fleeting moment he felt his gut clench and his muscles tense as he shuddered at the realization that he may have damaged their renewing relationship, and knew he needed to put it right before it was too late.

 _No time like the present_. With that thought he turned to her and slowly brought her awake. Afterwards, languishing in each other’s arms, as he tried to explain, Sarah silenced him with a gentle kiss—and another until he ceased trying to talk.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You needed last night. We both did. And now I have you back, we have each other, and nothing else matters. I love you Cowboy.”

He could breathe again. For the first time in months he could breathe freely. Relishing the feeling he took a deep breath, turned to her again, and offered, “Darlin’, I know I’ve spurned yer advances these past months, until I figured ya’d given up, and I didn’t blame ya fer doin’ so. In fact I was grateful, relieved. It’s not that I didn’t want ya, although I’m sure that’s how it must o’ seemed ta you. I just couldn’t take the risk. Couldn’t face the possibility o’ what might come of it. I couldn’t manage the worry o’ havin’ another child. Truth be, I couldn’t handle the fear o’ losin’ another child. And then last night, suddenly all I could think on was how much I wanted ya, how much I needed ya, and some force beyond my control seemed ta take over. If we were goin’ ta create a baby it’s not the way I’d want it ta happen.”

“It doesn’t matter my Heath, any baby of ours will have come from God’s grace and our love. And, if a baby comes, no matter when or how, we will find a way to welcome it, and a way to live with whatever worry or fear it brings.”

He knew she was right. If it meant having more children, if it meant losing more children—somehow, someway he would find a means to handle that. What he could not endure was another day without Sarah, without what he and Sarah had had. The passion, the delight, the utter joy of being with each other.

They heard the door knob rattle, and remembering it was locked, looked at each other.  _Do we get up and let them in?_

“Which of the three children do ya s’pose it might be?”

“Three children?” She looked at him confused.

His blue eyes twinkled as he answered, “Jonathan, Leah or Nick?”

Giving her one last squeeze and a quick kiss, he handed her her gown, pulled on some pants and went to open the door. It was a new day.  _Boy howdy, it’s a new life._


	13. Chapter 13

True to his word, Heath made the trip to the horse auction, and over the following several weeks arranged to check on the mines. They weren’t pleasant trips. He did worry while he was gone. Seemed his gut was in knots the whole time he was away, and although he must have gotten some sleep, he neither looked nor felt that way on his return.

More concerning for him though was the effect on Jonathan. He was scared, and he wasn’t as successful as he might hope at hiding it. It was evident in those telling blue eyes, so like his father’s. It was evident in the tense muscles that gave a stiffness to his carriage. It was evident in the loss of appetite, the increased quietness, and numerous other ways. At least it was to those who knew him well. So, while it was clear he was afraid, what wasn’t clear was why. Was he afraid that something would happen to Heath while away, or that something would happen to them? In either case no amount of reassurance was sufficient to allay the fear. Heath could do nothing but suffer along with his son.

Things were right again between he and Sarah, between he and Nick—although the latter did proffer a potent protest at the plans to rebuild the little house. He had relented initially when Heath moved the horse operation back to the corrals and barn in that location. But moving himself—his family—back, living there again, that was a different matter, and if Nick Barkley had his way it wouldn’t happen. He didn’t. In time Sarah helped him understand that it was what she, as much as Heath, wanted and what was needed for them to reclaim the life they’d had.

Knowing he would lose this battle, and knowing also that he’d never been able to say no to his little brother, he did the only thing he could—gave in and offered his assistance. Heath acknowledged that for now ranch work took precedence and agreed that building  would proceed as time permitted. He owed Nick that much, and did not resent paying the debt. Besides, he had another project threatening to monopolize his attention, and for that he sought his elder brother’s input.

Jarrod cooperated by making an unscheduled trip to Stockton not long after Nick and Heath came to an agreement on the rebuilding plans. Heath cornered him in the study, after dinner, his first evening there and, with a glance at Nick, indicated he had a matter of some urgency he needed to discuss. Hoping Nick would get the hint and leave them alone, he was dismayed to see him instead settle more comfortably in the chair he’d been occupying. He drove the full-force of his flashing blue eyes into the hazel of his big brother and waited for him to leave. Nick failed to move.

“Nick, I believe I just said I wanted ta talk ta Jarrod.”

“Uh, huh. Don’t let me stop ya.”

Blue bored, once again, into hazel.

“What? What’s eatin’ at ya, Boy. I’m not interferin’.”

Jarrod, recognizing the stalemate for what it was and hoping to get to bed sometime before midnight, decided it was in his best interest to intervene. “Nick. Maybe privacy would be appreciated.”

Nick looked perplexed. Then sudden understanding crossed his face, and he arose, strode over to close the door, and then settled once more in his chair.

Heath turned to Nick, sighed deeply, and gave him  _that_  look. The look that clearly said, “I know you’re my brother, I love you dearly and sometimes you’re the dumbest human alive.”

“What?” Nick demanded. “What’s the problem now?”

Heath decided to let it go.  _He’ll find out sooner or later anyway, and maybe it’s best to have him knowin’ from the start._  He turned his attention back to Jarrod.

“Jarrod, I know if I’d managed ta keep a closer rein on my temper all those many months ago, those two strangers might still be alive.” He quickly raised his hand to halt the interruption he knew was coming, and the direction he suspected it would go. “I’m gonna feel how I feel about that no matter what ya all say. And that’s not what I want ta talk about. We know that fire was no accident. Seems ta me it came mighty quick on the heels o’ that little incident.” Closing his eyes he took a minute to deal with the wash of emotions coursing through him.

Taking a deep breath he continued, “Just so ya know yer efforts haven’t been wasted, I want ya ta know that I have acquired some understandin’ o’ how the law works. I know that typically when a crime’s committed, evidence is gathered until a likely culprit is identified, and then charges are filed and justice is served.”

Jarrod nodded, wondering where this was going.

“But what if there’s not enough evidence ta identify a likely suspect? Seems ta me then the whole process comes ta a standstill. Seems ta me that’s what has happened this time.”

“Well, yes Brother Heath, that can be what happens. Can’t put someone on trial, can’t turn the gears of justice if there’s no evidence to create a defendant.”

“But Jarrod, what if the culprit can be identified without the evidence? Then what? How would one go about working from the other end? Identifying the suspect and then uncovering the evidence ta support the identity. How would one go about doing that?”

“Now Heath that’s not how the system is designed to work.” Waving off the impending protest he continued, “but if someone did want to do that, then I suppose they’d do much like you suggest. Start working backwards, trace the movements, the actions of the person and see what is found. But, I’m not sure there’s much chance of success. One would presume that the suspect would have covered his trail.”

“But what if he didn’t? What if he maybe didn’t think there was any need. What if he was sure there weren’t no evidence at the scene ta point any fingers his way? If that were the case, do ya suppose it might be possible ta find enough evidence ta convict him?”

“Well, I guess it’s possible. What exactly are you thinkin?”

“Yeah,” Nick barked, “what are ya suggestin’ and ...” now beginning to put things together with Heath’s opening remarks, “how does this tie in with the two blokes you killed. Killed, I might add, in case ya’ve forgotten, in self-defense,” he pronounced.

“Well those two local guys are still around. I see them occasionally in Stockton. They was mighty vocal with their opinions—enough so ta lure in two complete strangers ta the point o' them gettin’ themselves killed. I’ve talked with McColl. He said he looked around the place pretty carefully the next day, as did the sheriff. Except for the containers, they didn’t find anything o’ interest, but they did decide that there was most likely at least two people involved. Mac says it would’ve been pretty hard for one person ta get the fire goin' quickly enough ta block all escape. They failed ta the degree they did ’cause they hadn’t planned on Sarah bein’ downstairs at the time.” He paused again to collect himself, realizing this was a lot harder to revisit than he’d anticipated.

“I think they did it. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And I want ’em. Not just ’cause I want justice, but ’cause I can’t go anywhere, I can’t plan anythin’, I can’t sleep soundly at night knowin’ they’re still out there and they could strike again.” Shaking his head, and brushing off Nick’s protests, what he knew would be Nick’s reassurances that they could put enough people in place to guarantee safety, he went on. “I don’t wanna have ta live my life under guard. Feels too much like bein' in prison,” he softly added.

“I don’t want my family ta live like that. And I can’t feel safe, and I can’t protect ’em if I don’t get the people what done this.” He looked at Jarrod, and there was a raw openness, a wanton pleading, that could not be denied.

“Jarrod, I don’t wanna go after them. I wanna go after the evidence that will put ’em away. I wanna make the world safe fer my family again—at least as safe as it was before this happened. I need ta do this, and I’m askin’ fer yer help.”

Jarrod took in a couple of lungs full of air while he contemplated what the quiet blond had suggested.  _It makes sense, much as it flies in the face of everything I know, and maybe everything I believe in. Innocent until proven guilty. But, isn’t that what he’s asking for. Prove them guilty. And if it couldn’t be done, then what?_

“Okay Heath, maybe it’s possible to work it this way. But, you have to accept—and I will demand this of you—that after all is said and done, the evidence may not be there, or the evidence might prove they’re innocent. Then what?”

“Then I’ve still got the main problem, but at least I know I tried. And, if it proves ’em innocent, then I don’t have to feel that itch all o’er my skin ev’ry time I see ’em in town.”

“Okay, I’m not exactly sure how this gets done, but one thing I do know. You and Nick,” and he looked hard and steady at his dark-haired brother, “have to stay out of it. Both of you and anyone else associated with anything Barkley—the ranch, the mines, the lumber camps. Anything. This has to be done by outsiders, by professionals. Any of you start poking around, operating like a bull in a china shop, and all you’ll do is tip your hand. If they haven’t taken steps to cover their trail before they’ll certainly do it then. I realize that the site’s been pretty well cleaned up, but it will still be the place to start. It probably helps that you’re thinking of rebuilding. Gives a reason for someone to be poking around the area.” He stopped to consider again.

“Another thing Heath. This is going to be expensive. I can get you a couple of fellows that I feel confident can find anything if there is anything to be found—although, as you have so succinctly pointed out, this is not the usual way to go about it. But they don’t come cheap. You’ll have to decide if it’s worth the price.”

“Now just a minute here,” Nick bellowed. “What da ya mean, he’ll have ta decide.” His voice rising along with his indignation, Nick continued, “This isn’t his problem. It belongs ta all of us. I SAY IT GETS PAID FOR OUT OF BARKLEY FUNDS. WHATEVER IT COSTS!” Nick was now on his feet and the final statement was reinforced by a fist on the desk.

“That’s not your—” Jarrod’s comment was cut off by the appearance and interjection of the diminutive Barkley matriarch.

“Nicholas, must you yell. There are children in this house, children who are—or at least were—sleeping. Now, can I be filled in on what Nick thinks needs to be paid for with Barkley funds?” She looked at Jarrod, assuming this was something he had introduced, and was surprised when Heath answered.

“Well ya see Mother, I was just wanting Jarrod ta let me know what might be possible.” He went on to explain.

Looking at her younger son, and nodding to the middle one, she responded, “I would have to agree with Nick. This is not Heath’s problem. It affects all of us. If Jarrod thinks there’s the remotest possibility that we could identify the person, or persons, responsible for the fire, then I say we take it to a family vote, and plan to have the cost borne by all of us.”

Heath’s attempts at protest were quickly silenced by Jarrod.

“You know once Mother has spoken, there’s nothing to be gained, except possibly a pounding headache and a build up of ire, by disagreeing. And, I will thank you Brother Nick, for making the point—could have appreciated it better had it been made a little more quietly, is all.” He ran his smiling eyes between his mother and youngest brother.

“I’ll be back in San Francisco day after tomorrow. I’ll make the contact and get a projected cost, although I can tell you it will be a best estimate. It could end up being considerably higher before they are done. They won’t really know until they start digging. I’ll wire the price, and then you can call the meeting. I’m not likely to be able to get back here for that, so I’ll cast my vote in favor right now. And, the wire will just have a dollar amount, no information on what it’s for. I can’t stress enough how essential it will be that there are no leaks, that no one knows we are investigating this.”

They all nodded, none of them knowing what kind of a Pandora’s box they might be opening. 


	14. Chapter 14

His reminiscences—both what he’d experienced and what he’d been told—slowly faded, as Heath brought himself back to the present. He watched the rising sun create the first streaks of color in the morning sky, and wondered what he was going to do about his son.

The investigation was underway. At Jarrod’s insistence, his contact, John Markle, would report only to him, and only in San Francisco. And he would share the information with no one, not even the family. Heath had agreed. He just wanted it done, and realized there was nothing to be gained by riding the rapids as leads came and went, and hopes rode with them.

And he had other things on which to focus. He’d finally gotten the plans drawn for the new house, with a few changes from the old one. The most notable being two stairways down to the lower floor—one leading directly to an outside door. At first they’d thought they could reduce the size, figuring there would be no need for as many bedrooms. Then they considered the advantage of being able to accommodate visiting cousins, and maybe even Jarrod and family on some of their protracted stays in Stockton. It would please Thomas and that remained important to Heath.

And then there was Sarah’s recent news. They hadn’t shared that with the family yet, wanting to give themselves time to get comfortable with it. But they’d certainly be needing one more bedroom than the scaled down plans would have called for. If Heath’s hopes to have this baby born in their own house were to be realized he was going to have to dedicate more hours, or more manpower, to the construction project. More than anything he was hoping that somewhere in the rebuilding of the house he would find a way to rebuild his son. Of greater importance than anything else he had to find a way to reach Jonathan, to help his priceless treasure. He would need Nick to understand.

Suddenly those two strong hands landed on his shoulders. Nick was there. He let the strength of that grip and the power it conveyed seep deep inside. Nick was here. Nick had his back. He pulled it in, accepted the support that was offered, that had been there before, so many times, countless times, again and again. Strength and support that was now as dependable as the sun’s rising each morn—and suddenly knew—Heath knew he would get through this, get his family through this. It would be alright. He could depend on Nick, depend on Nick for whatever help he sought. Nick would always be there.

He looked up and smiled, letting his blue eyes rest on the concerned hazel. He smiled again.

“Mornin’ Nick.”

“You look like hell. Did you get any sleep last night?” He paused, before continuing, “He’s gonna be okay, you know. He knows you’re there for him and sooner or later he’ll come ta you. Sooner or later, he’ll open up.” Looking at his exhausted little brother, he started to chuckle. “Or, I could take him in the barn, knock him around a bit, until whatever he’s trying ta hide just comes spewin’ out.”

Heath dipped his head, acknowledging Nick’s reference.  _Lord I hope it don’t come ta that. There’s gotta be an easier way ta get him ta ‘spew’._

Suddenly it hit him.  _This is what happened ta me ’n’ Sarah. I couldn’t talk ta her, ta share with her, ta be open, and what Jarrod would call vulnerable. I need ta do with him what I done with Sarah. Only it needs more than a picnic._

The sudden realization, prompted him to action. “Nick, I need ta get away fer a few days. Go ta the lodge. Couple o’ days, maybe three or four. I need ta take Jonathan with me. Take him where there’s no distractions, and no way fer him ta ignore me. Where I can get him ta talk. I don’t think he’s deliberately hidin’ whatever’s goin’ on fer him. I think he just needs the right place fer it ta come out. I wanna leave today. I’ll be back in time ta have the horses ready fer that army contract. Ya have my word on that.”

Nick saw the pleading in the tired blue eyes—and the hope. Nothing would get him to dampen that hope.

“I don’t give a damn about the army contract. They can go ta blazes if need be. What I care about is that little boy. And you, little brother. So, you do whatever you need ta do. That ol’ sun will still get up the next mornin’, you can count on it.”

Standing to face Nick, Heath knew what he’d just been offered. Knew it to be far more than an okay to rush off, to abandon his responsibilities. His thanks raw upon his face, he grasped the back of his brother’s neck and gave a grateful squeeze. Then, that not being enough he pulled him into a solid embrace and let the gratitude flow freely. When those two strong arms were wrapped solidly around him, the sentiment returned by his big brother, he knew his thanks had been understood, and accepted.

“Come on Boy, let’s go get you some breakfast, and get the two of you on your way.”

Colorful sunrise or not, Nick Barkley’s day suddenly looked much brighter.

 ********

As the lodge came into view, Heath glanced at the silent boy riding by his side, and thought back to his response to the announcement they were coming up here for a few days, just the two of them. He could mimic his father’s poker face and yet Heath had seen a brief flicker of anticipation, maybe even delight, before it was quickly overshadowed by something not quite so well defined. Trepidation perhaps. 

He was just as intuitive as his father and Heath had no doubts he knew this was not intended as a mere pleasant get away—a few days of fun and relaxation. He knew about the army contract, he was more than aware of the other work waiting on the ranch, and knew that neither his father nor his uncle were inclined to abandon responsibilities on a whim, just to have some fun. So, maybe trepidation was what he saw, and that thought sobered and saddened the blond. Whatever Jonathan was keeping inside was mighty powerful … mighty frightening.

Just as suddenly another thought hit Heath.  _Is he afraid that he would lose favor in my eyes if he tells me about it. Does he think I wouldn’t approve of him, might reject him. Stop lovin’ him. I need ta let him know there’s nothin’ in this world that can stop me from lovin’ him._

As they dismounted in front of the house he stepped around Jonathan’s horse, stepping up beside his son. He wrapped an arm across the thin shoulders and pulled him tight, giving a firm squeeze to the far arm.  _He’s lost weight. Whatever this is it’s eating him away. Somehow, someway, I’ve got ta make this work, I’ve got ta put an end ta whatever’s tormentin’ him._  Heath reached up and removed the sack of food tied to his saddle.

“Let’s stow this stuff and take care o’ the horses. Then we can think about getting’ somethin’ ta eat. I’m guessin’ ya gotta be hungry by now.”

He got a small smile in return and a nearly negligible nod.  _Patience, Heath, patience. Ya’ve got a few days, and ya thought ya might need ’em. Don’t expect too much too soon. And don’t go pushin’ too hard and lose him completely. Do this your way, not Nick’s._ He chuckled, and noticed the look of curiosity from Jonathan.  _Maybe I’ll have ta share that with him at some point—or maybe not._

The next morning after breakfast they were headed to the water. Time to do some fishing. Heath wasn’t sure if Jonathan hadn’t had any nightmares the previous night, or if he just hadn’t had any sleep. He knew about nights like that, and once again his heart went out to his son.

Within a few hours they had enough fish to meet their needs. They gutted and cleaned them and headed back to the house to fry them up for lunch.  _Coulda built a fire and cooked ’em over an open flame. Taste a lot better that way, but he’s not lookin’ like he’s inta that. Better ta just make sure I get some food inta him._

Heath watched his son eat. He was actually eating, not just pushing the food around his plate—although he did some of that too. However, he was not looking like he was enjoying his meal, or even like he was aware of what he was eating.  _God he’s a long way away. And God, if you’re watchin’—sorry about that—but, please help me bring him back._

Heath had an idea, and after the residue from lunch was cleared away he suggested they go for a walk. He decided to take the long route hoping the effort to get through the brush and over the rough trail would help Jonathan focus more on what was happening in the moment. An hour later they were in the alpine meadow. Heath steered Jonathan out into the open and then eased him down into the tall grass until they were both on their backs looking up at the cloud dotted sky.

He said nothing at first, just lay there and let the sounds from the area settle around them. Then quietly he started, his slow drawl blending in well with the subdued sounds around and about, “Mama and I used ta do this when I was yer age. Sunday afternoons when we didn’t have ta be at work, we’d go up inta the field above the camp and lie in the grass. We’d stare at the sky and then see how many shapes we could find in the clouds … like that three-legged dog over there,” and he pointed up to the right, watching closely.  _Yes, he turned and looked, he’s listenin’ ta me._

“Mama called it cloud watchin’. She was real good at it. Sometimes she’d find things I’d never heard of, like sternwheelers. And then when we got home she’d draw it fer me and tell me all ’bout it. I learned about turrets and castles, and knights in armour—horses in armour too. I ’member makin’ Mama draw me a real good picture of a horse in armour, so’s I could carve myself one. Found it years later, stored away in Mama’s trunk.”

He let the silence sit between them. Let it be the silence he always found comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. And he waited for that silence to bring comfort to his son, and provide a safe-feeling space where he might choose to deposit his thoughts.

And when the silence had stretched on, and on, and he had nearly given up, he heard it. That barely discernible whisper.

“Do you still have it?”

Took him a moment to realize what Jonathan was asking.

“The horse?”

“Yeah.”

“Not sure. I haven’t checked through the things from the fire. Not sure if Mama’s trunk survived. If it did, then, yeah, I’ve still got it.”

“I’d like to see it,” again, in the softest whisper.

“I’ll check next chance I get. If it’s still there, it’s yers. Yers ta keep.”

“I could have it?”

Heath noticed it. The slight increase in volume, and the spark of interest.

“If ya want it. Once ya’ve seen it ya might change yer mind,” he chuckled.

“But Papa the horses you carve for us, all the things you carve for us, are perfect.”

“Well ya might think so now. Have ta remember, I was ’bout yer age when I did that one. Didn’t do things quite the same back then.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in, then added, “Didn’t always understand things the same way either. Tryin’ ta figure things out when yer nine ain’t the same as tryin’ ta do it when yer an adult. Sometimes it’s hard enough when yer an adult.”

He let it sit. No one ever accused Heath Barkley of lacking patience, especially when patience was the one thing most needed. And the silence did feel comfortable, at least to him, and he hoped to his son.

Again the softest whisper, “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” Silence.

Heath slowly ... cautiously ... deliberately ... taking care not to startle him, or to disturb the connection that was building, rolled toward his son, so he could see him, see his face, maybe catch his eyes.

“What’s yer fault?”

“Jake.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Jake?”  _Careful, don’t push too hard, don’t scare him away._  “I always thought Jake was the fault o’ yer Mama and me—just like ya and all the rest.”

He got a flash of the miniature half-grin, and then the poker face again.

“I mean Jake’s dying. That was my fault,” he whispered.

“I see.” He paused and knowing better than to argue or dissuade, he offered what he could. “That’s a mighty awful thing ta carry around, the thought that yer the cause o’ someone bein’ dead. Carried some o’ those thoughts around myself o’er the years. Sometimes, the load’s easier ta carry if yer willin’ ta share it with someone. With someone maybe ya trust ta help ya carry it.”

More silence. More patience. And then he saw it, saw the lone tear escape the closed eye and take a lonely path down the pale cheek, soon to be followed by more. Then the small shoulders began to shake, and the ill-contained gasps turned to open sobs. Heath’s arms went out, enveloped his son, and holding him tightly he carefully sat up and drew him into his lap, against his chest, and let him sob. And sob. The floodgates had opened, and the spillage that had been too long held in check, was released to run unimpeded.

After a long while, he felt the shaking ease to the occasional shudder, the sobs to quick gasps, and the last of the tears turn to furtive sniffles. He sat. He continued to hold and rock. He offered comfort, endless comfort. And he waited. Waited for the words that needed to follow.

_Don’t try ta drag it out of him. Let him tell ya when he’s ready. Wait. Just wait._

“We had a fight. He took my new book without asking. Took it to the table and messed it up, spilled something on it. I got mad, and told him to leave my things alone, never touch anything of mine ever again. He stormed off, said fine, he’d never have anything to do with anything of mine ever again ... or with me neither. Guess he was mad too. I ignored him all afternoon, even at dinner that night. Mama looked at both of us, but she never said anything. Guess she knew we was mad. Figured by bedtime we’d work it out like we always did.”

He paused to look up, and see how his father was reacting. All he saw was sadness and sorrow ... and love. So he continued, “But somehow it was different this time. Seemed to me that working it out was going to be about me apologizing like I always did, and I didn’t think I had anything to apologize for. And I decided I wasn’t going to be the one to start this time.

“I was still mad at bedtime, and I was still ignoring him. He said he wouldn’t be sharing a room with me neither. He waited until Mama had tucked us all in and then he snuck into Leah’s room and got her to change places with him. She came and crawled into his bed.” Another pause, another check, and a deep breath to gather the courage to go on.

“Sometime later I started to feel hot and then thirsty and decided to get a drink. That’s when I woke up and smelled the smoke. I knew something was wrong. I grabbed Leah and mostly dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. There was lots of smoke there. Then Mama came and got us outside and told me to hang onto Leah and keep her safe.”

He shuddered once more, “If I’d only said I was sorry, got over my mad, he would have been in our room.” The tears starting to build again, he looked up at his papa, eyes pleading for understanding. “He would have ... would have been with me ... we both would have got out. He wouldn’t be dead.” Another long pause as he took a deep inhale, and then finished, “It’s all my fault.”

Heath pulled him snugly to his chest again, rested his cheek on top of the small blond head and wondered where to find the right words. And then he realized there weren’t any right words, all there was were the words his son needed to hear, the only words he’d be able to hear, “I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Another shudder, and then the small arms reached ’round him, grasping his shirt, and holding on tightly. Holding on like his life depended on it. Holding on until he could finally, after all these months, feel he was no longer in danger of being swept away. Could once again feel he was on solid ground, could reclaim his place in the world—in his family.

Heath sat and waited, held and rocked, and stayed with him. Stayed until Jonathan was ready to ease the grasp, until he was ready to move back a bit, to sit up, and to be seen. He cupped the sad face, used his calloused thumbs to gently wipe away the last of the tears, bent and kissed the warm forehead, then smiled. He reached in his pocket and offered his handkerchief, which was accepted and used.

He cupped the face again, and gazing deep into the eyes that so mirrored his own, he offered absolution.

“I wish ya’d told me, or Mama, or someone. Sometimes I think yer cursed ta be so much like me. Grandmother, Uncle Jarrod, Uncle Nick, Mama ... everyone ... says I can create ’n’ carry guilt better’n anyone they know. Yer mountin’ a good challenge.” He smiled again.

“Son, I can understand how ya see it, but I want ta see if ya can also see another part o’ it. If Jake had stayed in yer room, ya and Jake might’ve got out. He might still be alive. But Leah wouldn’t. Ya saved Leah. And I don’t know why it should have worked out that way. Mama reminds me all the time that God has a plan. Sometimes I forget.” He chuckled. “More than sometimes. Too often I forget. In fact, I forgot for a long while after the fire. I shut out Mama, I shut out Uncle Nick, I shut out all the family. I shut myself away with my grief, my pain, my fear, my anger ... my blame.

“But, Papa, you weren’t to blame. You weren’t even there when it happened.”

“Exactly. That’s part o’ what I blamed myself fer, fer not bein’ there, fer not takin’ care of ya all. For not savin’ everyone.”  _And fer attracting the kind o’ hate that would cause someone ta do this in the first place. But, he don’t need ta hear that._

“Mama and I give thanks every day that we still have you and Leah. I am so grateful that ya rescued her. She never would have gotten out on her own. Jake had a better chance o’ doin’ that. God has his own reasons for puttin’ her in yer room that night, and makin’ sure ya woke up. I don’t know what those reasons are. I don’t think they’re fer us ta understand. We just got ta accept ’em. Like Mama says, God has his plan. You being here, Leah being here, are part o’ that plan. God had a different plan for Jake, and for Freddie and Hannah and Little Luke. He needed ’em fer another purpose, and so he took ’em.” He paused to consider his next words and make sure he still had Jonathan’s attention.

“It’s okay ta be sad, ta feel sorry Jake is gone. But, it’s not okay ta take from God what’s his. Jake dying was God’s decision, not yer fault, and ya got ta quit blamin’ yerself.” Their eyes held until finally Jonathan tilted back his head, turned his eyes upward, and gazed at the sky.

“He was a good brother. I miss him. I guess I gotta believe he’s fine. Maybe one day I’ll find him in the clouds,” and he lowered his eyes to look at his much-loved father, and then he smiled. A wondrous, full-blown smile that went all the way to his now bright eyes.

_He’s back. I’ve got him back. Now we can help him heal._

Heath opted to stay another day. They talked some more. They fished, and hiked, and did some cloud watching. Mostly they healed. Heath too. It wasn’t until he talked with his young son, that he discovered they were both in need of healing. He thought he had, and yet there were bits he’d left untended. They would both go back better able to face the future.

Lying in bed the last night Heath suddenly realized he’d never questioned why Jonathan had been on the stairs with Leah—why he’d woken and come downstairs with her, and Jacob hadn’t been with him. The Larkins had told him the boys had been asleep in their beds.  _Never thought to wonder why Jacob was still in his bed if Jonathan had woken and discovered the smoke. Didn’t realize the Larkins wouldn’t have known Jacob was in Leah’s bed. Lord, if I’d a just wondered on that all those months ago I’d o’ asked him and this would’ve come out way back then. Heath Barkley, sometimes yer just too dumb fer words ... guess ya weren’t the only one missed that clue—even the counselor hadn’t thought ta ask that question._

The trip home was much lighter than the one there—not only because they weren’t carrying a sack of food. They chatted the whole way—at least what passed for chatting with them. For sure there were long periods of comfortable silence. And it  _was_  comfortable, as were they. For the first time in a long, long while, they were each totally comfortable with each other and in their own skins.

As they headed down the road toward the house Heath suddenly veered off, leading them in the other direction. “Let’s go visit yer little brother. I think there might be something ya’d like ta say ta him.” He glanced at Jonathan, waiting for his answer, and got a quick nod.

At the grave site Jonathan dismounted and then seemed transfixed, unable to move forward. Heath dismounted and quietly came to stand behind him. Placing his hands softly on the still too-thin shoulders and giving a solid squeeze, he suggested, “Sometimes the only way ta get it done is ta just start,” and he eased him forward.

He watched as his son moved to stand and stare at the headstone,

 Jacob (Jake) Durand Barkley

1883- 1891

A Treasured Mixture of Spirit and Sensibility

then moved to tidy up around the others. It wasn’t as painful seeing them as it used to be.

 Leah Victoria Barkley

1880 – 1886

She Brought Sunshine To Our Lives

 Alfred (Freddie) Jarrod Barkley

1887 – 1891

He Reminded Us To Laugh And Play

Hannah Marie Barkley

1889-1891

She Brought Laughter And Joy To All

Lucas Heath Barkley

Our Little Luke

For a Few Hours Only

1891

He settled into the work with a quiet rhythm. He didn’t endeavor to eavesdrop, but at the same time made no attempt to tune out the words.

“Hi Jake. I sure do miss you. I guess I should have come to visit you long before now. I hope you’ll forgive me. Papa says I don’t need you to forgive me for you being gone, and I guess he’s right. Papa was always right, wasn’t he.

“I am sorry I fought with you, sorry I got so mad, and sorry I didn’t make up with you. But I’m going to try and remember the good times we had, so that doesn’t have to be my last memory of you. Papa says it’s okay to do that, and Papa  _is_  always right.

“Don’t know why God wanted you right now, but I hope it’s for something good. I hope you’re with Little Leah, and Freddie and Hannah, and Little Luke. I hope you’re all together and taking good care of each other. And maybe Grandfather Tom’s with you too, and Grandma Leah and all the others. And some day I’ll get to be with you again. Some day all of us will get to be together. Papa says we have to each wait for it to be our time, to follow God’s plan. And Papa’s always right,” he chuckled.

“I’m glad God let Papa stay with me, and Mama too. I hope you don’t miss them too much, and it’s okay with you that I get to have them for now and you don’t. I promise I’ll take good care of them, and I’ll remember to be glad I’ve got them. Leah too.

“And Papa doesn’t know I know this, but I heard Mama say something to him, and we’re going to have another baby in our family. Don’t know if it will be a girl or a boy, but it won’t never take your place. Won’t mean I’ll forget you, or love you less, but I promise I’ll be a good big brother to it, and I’ll tell it all about you. All about you and me and how I got to learn about being a big brother by practicing with you.

“Well I better go now. Papa and I have been away and I bet Mama’s worried about us. But I’ll come back and visit again. Lots. I promise. You have my word on that. ’Bye for now Jake.”

He knelt down, reached over and gave the headstone a hug. Then getting up and joining his papa by the horses, he mounted up, and turning to Heath, grinned and declared, “Time to go home.”


	16. Chapter 16

They were a family again, and now they could move on. It was past time. Heath told Sarah that their secret was out, although safe with Jonathan, and they decided he didn’t need the burden of carrying secrets. The next morning they told the family. It was another step forward … another step toward healing.

His promise to Jonathan not forgotten Heath recognized the need to breach the issue of exploring what had been salvaged from the fire. Sarah reminded him—again—that he was not alone in this world and they set aside a day to tackle the chore. It was a painful undertaking—uncovering in many ways not what had been saved, but what had been lost. Slowly they worked through the items Nick and the men had carefully stored and covered all those months before, pausing often to share their thoughts, their sorrows, and their lingering fears. They took care to stop when necessary to comfort each other—and Sarah made sure her cowboy did not allow himself to forget she was there for him. Lots of talk, several squeezes, plenty of tears, and many prolonged embraces.

They discovered the more they worked and the more they turned to each other, the easier the task became, until by early afternoon they could consider the possibility that they were enjoying the undertaking—at least to a small degree. And to Heath’s surprise and joy he found his mama’s trunk and, within it, the horse in armour—and shared with Sarah more of his conversation with Jonathan.

To his even greater surprise, Heath discovered his mama’s sampler. The frame was damaged, the glass cracked, but with gentle, loving care, it soon would be restored to its earlier condition—awaiting the time it again would be hung in place of pride on the wall of their home. They realized they were both thinking the same thing.  _Maybe it will represent the way our lives have been damaged and cracked, and how with gentle, loving care we’re able to put that back together._

He took the horse back with them that day and gifted it to Jonathan. Said horse now had a place of honour amid his son’s other treasures. While its new owner, from time to time, would take it out and play gently with it, he was always careful to return it to safety. And, he never let anyone else touch it.

Holding to his word, Heath had put in some long days to meet the army contract … days made longer by the forced travel back and forth. It was another indication of the need to push up the deadline for completing the house. He’d need to speak with Nick.

“Ya got a minute, big brother,” Heath called, spotting Nick turning the corner and heading into the barn.

Nick spun around, searching for the source of the question. Seeing Heath striding towards him, he nodded, “Whatcha need?”

“A favor.”

_Ah ha, this time I’m goin’ ta get him._

“Okay, you got it.”

Heath chuckled to himself.  _He’s playing with me and he thinks he’ll win. Poor devil, he never learns._

“Thanks Nick. I sure appreciate it,” he offered, as he turned to walk off in the other direction. And waited for what he knew would come.

Four steps was all it took. “Whoa there … just a minute … what … where you goin’?”

Heath kept walking, smiling to himself, as he awaited the follow up.

And there is was. “WHAT! THANKS FOR WHAT. COME BACK HERE. DON’T WALK OFF ON ME LIKE THAT, BOY.”

_He’s so predictable. Boy howdy, no wonder I love havin’ him fer a brother._

Heath stopped his forward progress, and half-turned to face a blustering Nick. “Ya needed something Nick?”

“Hold on just a minute here. What favor, what favor do you need?”

“Oh, that. Well Nick, I’m thinking I really need ta speed up the work on the house. So, I either need ta put in more hours there myself, or free up some men ta work on it—maybe both. Just don’t want ta leave ya feelin’ stranded, with more work than ya can handle. Figured with a real push I can have it ready ta move inta in a coupla months. Things will really be gettin’ busy here by then and ya’ll have me and all the men available. Whadda ya say?”

Nick knew he’d been had—again. Scowling at the blond, he gave up graciously, “Sure Heath. Whatever ya want. Either way will work.” And then not quite so graciously, added, “And since when was there ever more work than Nick Barkley could handle. I’ll have you know, I do more work around here than any two men.”

Heath smiled inwardly again.  _He’s so easy, just keeps setting himself up for the take._

“Sure Nick. Don’t know what I coulda been thinkin’. Guess I didn’t need ta ask. Shoulda known there’d be no concern. Well, better get back ta work. See ya at dinner,” and so saying strode over to the hitching rail, mounted Charger and rode off.

Nick stood in place, wondering what had just happened, then shaking his head and giving it up, headed back into the barn.  _Guess he probably won that one. Don’t much care. Just havin’ him back and willin’ ta play again is worth the price of losin’._

********

As it became evident that Heath’s plans to be back in his own place were soon to be realized, on his next visit to the ranch, Jarrod had decided it was time to revisit the concern he’d wanted to raise with Heath those many months before. Only this time he was less inclined to merely raise it—this time he was prepared to force acquiescence. To that end he opted to share his concerns and his plan with his mother and siblings. Having received a commitment of their support, he arranged that they be present when he broached it with his most stubborn brother.

Listening to the comfortable late-evening chatter, and aware of how much he and all of them had missed this, Jarrod was loathe to shift the mood.  _Why do I always feel like the spoiler, the voice of reason and responsibility? Ah well, come on old man, no time like the present._

“Heath,” he started, “I have something I want to discuss with you. And before I start, I want you to understand that I am not taking this lightly and I am prepared to fight you on this if necessary.”

Seeing Heath stiffen and turn guarded, darkening, eyes on him Jarrod chastised himself.  _Great start Jarrod. Damn. Nick’s right. This is another one of those times I’m forgetting to speak as his brother and not as a lawyer. Okay, let’s see if I can start again._

“Sorry Heath. That was uncalled for. I guess it speaks to how worried I am—how worried I’ve been. I had planned to speak to you about this before … well, before the fire. And, I might add, the worry hasn’t lessened any since. I’m just asking for you to please hear me out before you say anything. And, I guess I’m asking even more. I’m asking that you really hear what I’m saying, really consider it, and understand I’m not trying to pull rank, give orders. I’m just trying to take care of you, all of you.” His somber sapphire eyes looked pleadingly into the pale blue of his younger brother, and when he saw the slight nod of the blond head he continued.

“I’m not sure how to present this to you, so guess maybe the best bet is to do as you would do. Just come out with it. Say what I need to say.” He paused before continuing, taking care to keep concern and not authority in his voice.

“I don’t think you and Sarah and the kids should be at your house alone. I didn’t think so before, and I truly don’t think so now. I want you to have a couple of hands staying there. Either build a small place for them or carve an area out of the barn. Someone needs to be there, when you are and, most importantly, when you aren’t. I just want to be able to sleep at night and not worry that you aren’t as safe as possible.”

He saw the myriad of emotions play out in those emotive-blue eyes and knew how hard it would be for Heath to grant this request. At the same time he knew how essential it was. Wondering how to proceed, he heard Victoria’s quiet plea.

“Son, we just want you, Sarah and your children with us for a long, long time to come. We need to feel like we’ve done everything towards making that happen. Even in the earliest days, your father and I had someone else around. And yes, we were far more isolated, and times were rougher … but it still makes sense today. Is it too much to ask?”

Heath swallowed hard.  _Why do I feel like they’re tellin’ me I can’t take care o’ my family? I know that’s not what they’re saying. I know they don’t think that. They want us safe. Is that such a bad thing? Would Mama say this is foolish pride that’s wantin’ me ta say no?_

He looked around the room, catching the eyes of each person there. All he saw was love and caring. There was no judgment, no condemnation, no belittlement. Just love and caring.  _Do I want ta turn my back on what I see here, on what’s bein’ offered?_

Nick, possibly reading his little brother’s thoughts better than anyone, interjected, “You could choose the men, or we could ask for volunteers. Their first job would be ta build themselves a space. Once that’s done, the more time they spend doin’ the routine stuff around your place—repairs and maintenance ta buildings, fences and corrals, and daily care for the horses—the more time you’ll have ta just work with the horses. Should help expand that part of the operation, open the door ta more contracts. It’s not a bad business decision, Heath.”

_He’s givin’ me an out, a way ta accept without losin’ face—that fer some reason I think I’d do. Good ol’ Nick, always takin’ care o’ me. Come on Heath, after all he’s done fer you over this time, it’s time ta give him somethin’. Even you know he deserves far more than this little thing. And it is, really, it is just a little thing. Whether it’s foolish pride, or whate’er it is, swallow it. Give him what he wants._

Exhaling the deep breath he hadn’t noticed he’d taken in, Heath nodded twice. “Okay. Okay, I hear ya.” And then looking at Sarah, and reading the love and acceptance in her dark eyes, he accepted.

“I’ll do it. Guess ya better ask fer volunteers since they’ll be sleepin’ in the loft ta start.”

“Done,” exclaimed Nick. “Maybe we can just haul over a couple of cots and set ’em up in the tack room, or somewhere, for now. Guess we can let ’em decide how’d they prefer ta handle their sleepin’ arrangements. They could also stagger trips over here ta get their chow. Cookie’ll accommodate ’em.”

He moved over and slapped his brother on the back, then reached up and gave that precious neck a patented Nick Barkley shake. “Thanks.” It was all he said, and it said it all. Nothing more was needed—for either of them.


	17. Chapter 17

It was done as agreed. They were back in their own house and a small bunkhouse now sat on the property—complete with tenaciously loyal inhabitants. The space was outfitted so they could cook their own meals whenever it wasn’t convenient for them to eat with the other men. The larder was kept full. It wasn’t unusual, either, for them to come in and find a hot meal waiting, or a fresh loaf of bread or fruit-filled pie.

As the months slipped by it became harder and harder for Heath to refrain from badgering Jarrod for information on the investigation. It was even harder to keep Nick from doing so. However, he figured he had placed enough of a burden on his eldest brother and didn’t need to be adding to it. Jarrod would share when the time was right.

Besides, he had another focus. As they both had wished, Sarah delivered the new baby, like all those before, in their own home. Rachael Sarah Barkley—named after her mother and Heath’s ‘Aunt’ Rachael—had brought a peace that neither expected. All the concerns he’d had about losing another child evaporated the moment he set his eyes on the dark-haired beauty, and blue met blue. No fears of losing her could override the joy of having her in their lives. Her very presence sent a message of hope and anticipation into every corner of this little house, and into the hearts of all that lived within.

On this day, Heath was in the house trying hard to suppress a smile as he watched his lovely wife and Carly. He was sure that at one point only the latter had been covered in … well, in whatever they were now covered.

“Hi Uncle Heath. I’m helping, see,” and she held out her little hands.

“I see that sweetie,” and glancing over at Sarah and swallowin’ hard, he raised an eyebrow and offered, “Need some more help?”

Sarah looked up, her brown eyes flashing. He might not be smiling, but she could see the smile he was hiding. Just as she began, “And what do you suggest you might do to help—”

Jonathan came panting into the house.

“Papa, Victor’s in with the stallion.”

Heath turned and ran, his thoughts racing as fast as his feet.  _Please, oh please, let him be alright. Nick trusted me, I can’t fail Nick. He’s just a little boy. Let me get ta him on time. Please, he’s got ta be alright._ Slowing as he came to the corral, he carefully eased his tense body against the corral rails, not wanting to spook the horse. This one was very new, very wild, and very cantankerous, and he was showing all those characteristics as he snorted, pawed and half-reared. His heart beating frantically, the frightened rancher started to speak quietly, as if to the now-agitated animal.

“He’s not s’posed ta be in yer space, is he? It’s okay, he’s gonna leave. He’s gonna step back very, very slowly. He’s not gonna make any sudden move that might scare ya. Slowly, one foot at a time, small, small steps, he’s gonna start moving away until he can very, very carefully slide between the rails an’ leave ya alone.” He could see Victor start to follow the suggestions. Still feeling the pounding of his heart he continued to urge the boy and quiet the horse. As the distance between the two widened, he eased himself into the corral, hoping to afford himself the opportunity to get between them if necessary. He heard the sound of the returning buggy behind him, but kept his focus on his nephew.

After what seemed an eternity, Victor was outside the corral, outside and safe and Heath could ease back out and go to him.  _Okay, easy does it Heath. He’s scared. Ain’t gonna help ta yell at him. Take a breath, calm down._

As he reached his young nephew, the trepidation he saw on his now-pale face, distressed him as much as what he had just done.  _I think he’s more worried about what I’m gonna do than he is about what coulda just happened ta him. Gotta fix that._

He reached out and drew the young red-head into a comforting hug. Running his hand through the disheveled hair, he began to coo. “It’s okay. I’ve got ya now. You’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen ta ya now.” He could feel the little body first start to soften and then start to shake. He continued, “I’m bettin’ that was pretty scary. I’m mighty proud o’ ya, doin’ just like I said and getting’ yerself outta there. Sure would be powerful sad if anythin’ bad happened ta ya.” And as he felt the shudders begin to be joined by the sobs, he continued to hold him close and murmur quiet platitudes, until he heard him try to respond around the hitches in his breath.

“I … I,” and he started to sob again. Heath continued to soothe him until he could try again. “I … I wanted … wanted … ta help.”

He held him until finally he quieted, and then easing him away from his chest, wiped the tear tracks with his handkerchief, and then offered it to his nephew to blow. Looking into those compelling hazel eyes, so like his father’s, and taking two deep breaths in and out, he offered, “I’m guessing ya did want ta help. And I’d be glad ta let ya help as much as ya’d like. I just need ya ta ask first, and be willin’ ta take on what I think would be helpful. Ya think ya can do that next time? I think ya ’bout scared me near ta death. Probably scared him too,” flicking his head towards the now-quieted stallion, “don’t ya think.” He smiled at the still-pale face, and got a tentative smile in return.

Swallowing hard, Victor replied, “Guess I scared all three of us. I’m sorry Uncle Heath. I’m sorry I scared you, and your horse.”

“Well, I’m sorry ya scared yerself, and all I ask is that ya don’t try that one again. Deal?”

“Yessir, it’s a deal,” he stated as he hitched in another breath.

“Next time I’ll ask you before I help. I promise.” And then looking at the ground, in a subdued and tentative voice, he questioned, “There will be a next time won’t there? You’ll let me come back?”

Quieter yet, he muttered, “I don’t think Uncle Jarrod or Uncle Carl’s ever goin’ let me come back.”

“Victor, look at me.” He waited for the head to lift and the eyes to meet his own. “Ya will always be welcome here. I just don’t want anything ta happen ta ya. So I need ya ta promise me ya’ll follow my rules and not get hurt.” Holding his gaze, he waited for the reply.

“I promise Uncle Heath. I promise.” Getting the nod of acceptance he so longed for, the young boy added, “Thank you,” and sealed it with the hardest hug his small arms could manage.

Looking up and over, Heath saw Nick approaching after having helped Jennie alight from the buggy. He stood up and moved to stop his progress. He knew that look, and it did not bode well for his young nephew.

“Nick, he’s okay,” placing his hand on the black-vested chest he held him back. “Nick. Listen ta me. He’s been scared, maybe worse than e’er before. He’s goin’ ta be okay, and he knows he made a mistake.” His arm was roughly knocked aside as his big brother attempted to move forward. Heath quickly stepped in front of him, raising his hand again to place it on the muscled chest.

Pushing harder to restrain the fury before him, he continued, “Yes, a mistake. He’s a kid Nick. Kids make mistakes. Some worse than others. He needs a chance ta learn from it. He needs ta appreciate how scared he was— how scared the rest o’ us were—if he’s goin’ ta learn. He can’t do that if ya just get angry with him.

“So, bury yer anger and let him see yer fear. Let him know how scared ya were, not how angry. Let him know ya love him, how important he is ta ya, and that’s why ya were so scared. Please Nick. He needs ya right now, needs that part o’ ya that ya don’t much let him see. Don’t blow the chance,” he begged. His appeal done, he lowered his hand and moved away to let father and son deal with each other.

Walking up to Jennie he put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s go in the house. Ya think ya’ve got problems wait ’til ya see Carly,” and he chuckled as he remembered the sight he’d left inside. He chuckled louder when he saw Audra and Carl’s buggy come around the corner. Glancing sideways he saw the hint of a smile on his sister-in-law’s face.  _She’s a trooper. Not without reason she’s been able ta make a go o’ it with Nick. I expect it’s been like tamin’ a wild horse—she’s learned to gentle him without breakin’ his spirit, and he’s done the same fer her. Okay, better get myself in there and rescue Sarah or I’ll be the one sleepin’ in the barn t’night._

Later that evening—Jarrod and his family having brought Victoria over—all were gathered in the cozy living area, sipping drinks appropriate to age and preference. The kids were talking at once in response to Sarah’s request to tell them how their day had gone.

They’d all been invited to a neighbor’s for an ostentatious birthday celebration. Nick, knowing Victor’s presence would likely contribute to some disaster and Heath would welcome any excuse to decline the invitation, had stifled his guilt and inquired if Heath and Sarah might be willing to forego the celebration and watch over the obstreperous youth. He offered to take along their eldest two as dispensation. Then Audra, getting word of the arrangement and unable to resist, likewise overcame her guilt and pled with them to take Carly for the day. Once Jonathan and Leah knew their two cousins would be spending the day at their place they begged to stay home.

“Well,” said Sarah, having sorted out the various comments coming her way, “it sounds as if you all had a wonderful time. Even your parents.” Glancing at the two sets of parents in question, she saw the guilt clearly displayed.  _I really don’t want them to feel badly. I’m glad they had a chance to enjoy themselves. And truth be told, in spite of the challenges they bring, I enjoy having their two here. And I’d much rather have spent the day with Heath, like this, than at that party._

Looking directly at them, she continued, “I am so happy to hear you enjoyed yourselves. And I want to thank you for trusting us enough to leave your children here.” Feeling Heath’s arm move across her shoulders she confirmed, “We do consider it a privilege to spend time with them, and appreciate having had the opportunity. I hope we can do it again soon.”

The squeeze she felt on her arm let her know she’d spoken the truth for both of them.

“Ya busy tomorrow?” Nick asked, as the room filled with laughter.

Ria, curled up in her namesake’s lap, surprised them all by asking, “Can I come stay with you, all by myself?”

“Anytime ya want princess,” Heath replied, as he stood and planted a kiss on her light curls. Then walking over to Nick he placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted his head towards the door, before dropping the hand and striding in that direction. Not sure what was happening Nick followed him out onto the verandah and leaned beside him on the railing.

After more silence than Nick could endure he snapped, “You got somethin’ ta say, Boy, just spit it out. I ain’t got all night.”

 _Come on Heath, ya dragged him out here. Either take the plunge or let it go._ He took the plunge. Turning to look at Nick, he started, “Today, about Victor … well, I don’t particularly like people messin’ in what I consider my business, and I know ya don’t either, but—” he was cut off.

“Forget it Heath. You were right. I was angry and I would have lit inta him—he wouldn’t have sat down for a week. I need ta thank you for slowin’ me down.”

Heath acknowledged his apology with a quick grin and drop of his head. Then raising his head he looked at his dark-haired brother and continued, “As I was saying Nick, I know ya don’t like people interferin’, but I gotta say this, so all’s I’m askin’ is ya hear me out. If ya want ta slug me afterwards, that’d be yer right.”

Seeing he had his attention—and permission—he continued, “I know Victor’s been blessed with both o’ yer and Jennie’s stronger traits. He can be wild, unruly and even willful at times, but he’s not a bad kid. Boy howdy, he got my heart pumpin’ t’day. But ya know what upset me the most—he thought I wouldn’t want him back here … ever. 

“I weren’t around when ya was growin’ up, but I’ve heard some stories, and if even some o’ what I’ve heard is true, ya got inta mor’n yer share o’ trouble. And, I’m guessin’ if ya think back on those times ya weren’t doin’ it ta get inta trouble. Ya was just tryin’ ta get Father ta notice and ta let ya know he saw how useful, how important ya were ta him.” He paused to give Nick time enough to let the words register without time to respond.

Watching Nick’s face he continued, “Do ya ever remember a time when ya were a kid that ya thought ya mighta done somethin’ ta upset Father so much that he wouldn’t want ya anymore—not that he wouldn’t love ya, but he just wouldn’t want ya around?” He saw it, that quick flicker of recognition. He kept going, interrupting Nick’s attempt at objecting.

“Victor doesn’t do things ta get inta trouble. I think he just wants ta contribute, but more importantly he wants ya ta notice he can contribute and he wants ya ta be proud o’ that, o’ him. He wants ta be like ya, but sometimes I think he figures that means he has ta be tough … strong … fearless. Everyone knows about Big Brave Nick Barkley—Victor certainly does. But I think he forgets what we all know—under all that fire and bluster there’s a good guy. And, he needs ya ta see, that your impetuous, headstrong son, like yerself, is also gentle and caring, and that that part o’ him is acceptable ta his father.

“Yer one of the most knowledgeable, most talented ranchers I’ve e’er met. A lot of what ya know ya learned from Father. Share that  with him. Start ta teach him what ya know, things he’s old enough and capable enough ta learn. And then don’t ferget ta thank him when he’s done, let him know ya value his effort. And don’t expect perfection. Remember ya had ta learn too.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he rested his hand on his brother’s back for moment, then turned and re-entered the house.

Back inside Heath settled down by Sarah, and relieved her of the little bundle she held. Joining in the conversation, he gave her a quick wink and brief half smile. When he saw Nick come back through the door he relinquished his daughter once more to his wife and stood—offering to replenish everyone’s drinks.

“Much as I’d like to say yes Heath,” Jarrod responded, “it’s been a long day and I think we need to look at getting Mother home and one young man—to say nothing of ourselves—to bed. The others agreed and quickly began to gather children and scattered items. As they moved out onto the wide verandah, Jarrod made another request.

“Can you all meet tomorrow afternoon at Mother’s? We need to talk about the investigation.” The nods he got in reply to this were considerably more subdued—and concerned.

The thump on his back from Nick as he passed by said all that was necessary to let Heath know they were okay.

As they lay in bed that night, Heath gazed at the ceiling and asked Sarah, “Wonder what Jarrod has ta tell us?”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”  _And not let it spoil our sleep._  Sarah was quite aware of Heath’s middle-of-night wanderings around the house, checking, she supposed, that all was well. _As long as the culprits remain at large he will not sleep soundly. Don’t expect he’s alone._

Similar conversations were taking place, and similar worries expressed among other couples that evening. No one slept as well as they would have wished.


	18. Chapter 18

As the approaching dawn slowly stole the darkness from the room Nick Barkley had lain for some time, hands behind his head staring at the ceiling, with his little brother’s words reverberating in his head.  _“… he just wouldn’t want ya around …. that part o’ him is acceptable ta his father ….”_ Feeling his wife’s eyes upon him, he turned to her.

“How does he do that,” he wondered aloud.

Jennie, having awoken, her thoughts directed towards the coming afternoon, responded, “Who? Jarrod?”

“Heath … how does he know … when he never had a father?”

Reviewing the conversation they’d had the previous evening Jennie began to suspect what was troubling him. “Maybe he didn’t need a father, just a parent. Seems he had one of those—one who proved to be very capable.” Pausing to consider what might further set his mind to rest, she added, “And maybe he learned something about what it takes to feel valued and accepted from a certain big brother he reveres.” She smiled at him, that gentle smile that said,  _“I too know you have a gentle, caring side.”_

Nick nodded in understanding, “Maybe you’re right. You weren’t there when Thomas was born, but it was somethin’ ta see. Like he had a magic touch. Seems he still does.”

“Did you resent that reminder yesterday—of that and of the place he holds in Victor’s heart?”

“Probably my first reaction. But, then all I really felt was gratitude—that he would risk what we have ta get me ta help my son, and that Victor means that much ta him. Somethin’ ta be grateful for don’t you think?”

“Always good to know we’ve got something to be grateful for.”

Suddenly her eyes got that devilish gleam and she slid over closer. “I’m thinking nobody’s doing much this morning but waiting for this afternoon to come. Can’t be any need to be rushing out of bed this morning—” He cut her off, in just the way she’d hoped he might.

The same dawn woke Heath and Sarah—and similar thoughts.

“Ya know, when I was on my way ta rescue Victor I shoulda been thinkin’ about him. And I was … but I was also thinkin’ about what would happen ta me and Nick if I let anythin’ happen ta his son. Kinda selfish o’ me don’t ya think?”

She looked silently upon this man she loved before offering a reply, “You think Nick would see it that way? Selfish? You think he values your relationship any less than you do? Does he resent you saying what you did to him?”

A raised eyebrow and crooked smile were his first reply. He followed with, “Probably not. He’s let me know—things he’s said here and there—that sometimes havin’ Tom Barkley be there as a father could hurt as much as not havin’ him there. We’re okay.”

Having said it, he knew it to be true. He and Nick were good.

A small, but demanding, voice called to them. “I’ll get her,” Heath said.

_Now to wait and see what Jarrod had to say._

_********_

As they settled into the study in the big house later that afternoon, no one knew what to expect. Something must have come up if Jarrod was breaking the code of silence. The question was, what?

“I know this is short notice,” Jarrod began, sitting on the edge of the desk, “and I do appreciate you all making yourselves available. While I did have things to take care of in the office in Stockton, this is really what prompted this trip.

“I met with John a few days ago to get his latest report. It looks like Heath was right. What he and his men have found points to the two men in question.” He glanced at Heath and saw the relief—and the question—on his face, and nodded.

“As I said, it points to them. It’s not enough to convict them.”

“Ah, come on Counselor. Quit the double talk,” Nick jumped up. “How can it point ta them and not be enough ta get them?”

“Nick, sit down. Please,” Jarrod urged. “I’ll try and explain.” He waited for him to take his seat, then to settle into it.

“This isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

Looking around the room at his assembled family, Jarrod began.

“Without going into the small details, in essence this is what John has discovered. The two men have names: Don Cohen and Erik Gray. The comments made and the altercation that followed, in the saloon, can be verified—establishes animosity but not to the point of motive. The fact that one of the men Heath killed happened to be a distant relative of Cohen’s, and the other an old friend of the pair, suggests revenge as a motive. But, no actual threats were made.

“The mercantile in town sold a number of containers of the type found at the site … to Cohen. However, he bought more than the number found. Cohen appears to have landed a job with one of the local farmers to clear and burn mesquite on his place. Circumstantial evidence at best.

“The hoof print McColl found after the fire, and which Heath confirmed as being unusual and not belonging to any horses around his place, or that he knew to have been around his place, matches a discarded horseshoe that was found at the local blacksmith’s. As near as he could remember it came off a pie-bald mare that belongs to Gray, he can’t attest to it.

“Neither man’s whereabouts can be established at the time of the fire. However, if pressured they may well be able to come up with alibis—someone other than each other.

“They’ve got a history of being in trouble, but always small stuff. Like the saloon incident. Nothing that put them in jail for more than a day or two. At best they could be considered troublemakers.

“There were a couple of incidents in other places that the local people suspected could be attributable to them, but no proof could be found and no charges were filed. Speaks to a pattern, but again circumstantial.

“John has assured me they have turned over every stone to be turned. There is not enough evidence to have them arrested. There is certainly not enough to have them convicted.”

Looking pleadingly at Heath, he mustered the courage to state, “It is my opinion that the best thing to be done is to let it go. Accept that in this case justice will have to wait for a later time and place, to be dealt by the hand of Another. We have done all we can.” He sat down and waited for the reaction.

“Well, ain’t that just fine,” growled Nick, rising and beginning to pace. “So, we just roll over and play dead. Let them walk off scot free. Worse yet, let them walk around here scot free,” his volume rising with each word.

“Nicholas,” warned Victoria, “lower your voice. Nothing is going to be made better by you shouting. It is disappointing—” she was cut off.

“DISAPPOINTING. IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL IT. DISAPPOINTING,” punctuating his outburst with a fist thrusting the air.

“Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, I said—” Meeting his mother’s eyes Nick soon lost that battle and lowered his eyes as well as his voice.

“I’m sorry Mother,” he apologized, “but I just don’t think I can stomach lettin’ it go. Especially now that our suspicions have been confirmed. We know it was them. How do we let that go. You’ll have ta tell me, ’cause I don’t know how ta do that.”

“Well Nick, I’m sure none of us has an easy answer to that. But if it’s revenge you’re looking for and you go outside the law to get it, then in the end they really have won—and we just lose one more member of this family,” Jennie turned worried eyes on her volatile spouse.

As the conversation continued, in a now subdued form, Jarrod kept his eyes on his exceedingly somber blond brother. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Heath hadn’t said a word, had put his poker face in place, and had let neither a thought nor a feeling be seen.  _Like it or not I need to know what he’s thinking, we all need to know. And, like it or not, I’m going to have to risk possibly lighting the fuse to what’s under that blank exterior. No time like the present._

“Well I’m not sure anyone was thinking about seeking revenge, Jarrod cut into the conversation, getting everyone’s attention. “Not before and not now. Am I right Brother Heath?”

Heath looked up at Jarrod, and blue met blue, for what seemed an eternity to the seasoned attorney.  _How does he do that. If the bulk of the witnesses I encountered were like that I would have to close up shop._  Finally, without taking his eyes off his older brother Heath stood, and in his immutable, self contained manner, said simply, “I don’t have an answer fer ya Jarrod,” and quietly walked across the room and out the door. As they sat in silence they heard the retreating footsteps and then the solid closing of the big front door.

Sarah looked at Jarrod. “He’s not angry with you, Jarrod. He’s just lost for the moment. Give him some time to think it through. Please,” and she looked around the room at each of them. “All of you, please, just give him some time.” She rose, hugged Jarrod, and bent to tenderly kiss her mother-in-law. “I need to take him home. He’ll figure it out, he’ll find an answer for you. Just give him some time.” Then she too left, following the man she loved.

“She’s right,” Victoria confirmed. “He needs time to process this information. We all do. Let’s take a couple of days and then see where we are with it.” She moved over to stand in front of Nick. She knew how much this most-protective son was hurting, and reaching up to run her hand down his cheek, she assured him, “We haven’t dropped it yet. We need to give him some time. He has to have a say in what is decided. He knows you’re there for him, and he, more than anyone, appreciates your willingness to fight for him—to fight for justice for him and his. He knows Nick. He won’t forget, he won’t leave you hanging for long.” Unable to speak, he just nodded a couple of times and pulled her to his chest.

As per her request, they did give it a few days. Talking it over with spouses and siblings, proposing and as quickly discarding plan after plan. More and more it seemed like there were no options besides that promoted by Jarrod. They left Heath—and Sarah—alone, somehow knowing she was all he needed, and trusting that she would provide whatever help he required.

She had. They talked late that evening, early the next morning, and numerable times throughout the next couple of days. The afternoon of the third day, he came into the house to speak to her, “Darlin’ it’s time. Time ta go talk ta Jarrod. See if I can make him understand.”

“Do you want me to come along?” she offered, and saw him shake his head in reply. Getting a quiet embrace, he heard her murmur, “Speak from your heart and he’ll hear. He’ll hear and understand. Your heart always talks clearly, Cowboy,” and she released her hold on him and watched him walk out the door. As he rode away she prayed.

Heath found Jarrod in the study. Initially hoping to avoid Nick, he found himself somehow relieved when it didn’t happen. Inviting him along all he said was, “Gotta talk ta Jarrod.” Nick, as he seemed adept at doing with this quiet blond brother, was able to glean that all that was wanted was his presence, and willingly gave just that. He came along silently, save for the ringing of his spurs. He took up a chair off to the side, and waited, with Jarrod, for Heath to begin. Looking at both his brothers, Heath started in.

“Sarah once told me that havin’ a conscience means bein’ honest about whether what you did is what you ought ta have or just what you wanted ta. And so, if I’m honest, then early on I would have settled fer revenge. Sarah helped me with that and then what I wanted was justice. Justice fer the children that died on account o’ that fire and justice fer me and Sarah an’ all o’ us left behind ta mourn ’em.

“Since ya tol’ us that John said we had the right people, had ’em but couldn’t get ’em, I’ve come ta realize I want somethin’ mor’n justice, somethin’ mor’n seein’ ’em punished—I realize that goin’ after ’em , killing ’em, won’t give me what I want. Not sure I can explain it ta ya Jarrod, not sure I un’erstand it myself.  But when I let myself think about it, I don’t find it pricks ma conscience … guess it somehow seems right.

“I think what I want is fer someone, a judge, a jury, someone ta say out loud, in public that it don’t matter what I am, or how I come inta this world, it don’t matter if God is unhappy with me and wants ta punish me—fer what I am, fer taking away his Sarah—don’t matter about none o’ that. What matters is that it weren’t right fer ’em ta do what they did. No matter what, they don’t get ta play God’s hand fer Him.

“If God thinks it’s necessary that I atone fer being born, then that’s up ta God. If He thinks Sarah and I need ta atone fer finding each other, fer being happy with each other, fer loving each other as much as we could love Him … if He chooses ta destroy my home, take away my children, heap nothing but pain upon me … well that’s His right, and His decision. But it’s not right fer anyone else ta make that decision, it’s not anyone else’s right ta do that. It’s just not right fer them or anyone ta take the law inta their own hands, the law of the land or God’s law. I just want someone ta say it weren’t right and they need ta pay fer what they done. I guess that’s what I’m lookin fer. And I can’t see as I can rest until I get that.” He stopped and turned his pale woeful eyes to Jarrod and waited for … something. A reply, verification, absolution. He really didn’t know. Just something.

_Nick’s right. He doesn’t rub three words together for days, or weeks on end, and then suddenly he speaks and what he has to say is eloquent, poignant, gut-wrenching in its simplicity … its accuracy and honesty. What do I say to him? How do I find any words that begin to match those? How can I respond?_


	19. Chapter 19

Jarrod stood for a long, silent, moment with his churning thoughts, awash in the sense of helplessness his brother’s treatise had engendered. Fearing that adequate words might this time fail him, he nonetheless opted to offer what he could—and hoped it would be sufficient.

“Heath, I’m not sure what I can say, not sure I can find the words to say what needs to be said. But you have to trust me when I say I believe you understand far better than you think, and you explained it more than well enough. And, you are right. What you are seeking is more than justice and more importantly, it is not undeserved. It is not wrong.” He grabbed his younger brother by his shoulders and turned him so he was straight on, let their eyes meet, and repeated, “It is not wrong. You have the right to that. No one plays God’s hand, with impunity, but God.”

He watched the quiet, honorable man in his grasp acknowledge his words and heard the silent thanks his eyes bespoke fill the room. In that moment he knew it wasn’t just Heath who needed what was requested—he did too … they all did. It was not to be denied.

Maintaining eye contact he continued, “I don’t know exactly how, not sure even where to begin, but I’ll help. We’ll come up with a plan. We’ll find a way to get them. You, me, Nick … whoever else we need. We’ll find a way. We won’t let this go, and we will never again suggest that you do so.”

His innards clenched when he saw the raw emotion pass across his brother’s face, and the unbridled thanks flow from those emotive-blue eyes. It was like he’d thrown a drowning man a rope, a man who wasn’t sure the people on shore could see he was drowning, in need of the life line. In a Nick-like gesture he grasped the back of the sun-bronzed neck and gave a solid shake. _We’ll find a way, Brother Heath, we’ll find a way._

By the end of the day they had talked it over as a family and not knowing how to proceed decided to enlist the help of John Markle. Jarrod sent the succinct bequest, which came as but a slight surprise to the experienced detective.

 _John. Stop. Family looking forward to meeting you. Stop. Hoping to host you this Saturday. Stop. J. Barkley._  The reply, accepting the invitation, was in Jarrod’s hands within the hour. Now all they could do was wait, and the wait seemed interminable.

Nick and Heath kept busy with the endless work the ranch demanded—and at the end of the day could barely remember what had occupied them beyond the torturing thoughts of what Saturday might bring. Conversations in the evenings, whether with spouses or other family members circled relentlessly back to what Saturday might bring. And underlying it all was the omnipresent fear that Saturday might bring nothing at all. And those thoughts were intolerable. That intolerance created ragged nerves, short tempers and the need for repetitive apologies. Those children who could, became invisible—those who couldn’t bore the brunt of the frequent explosions.

After several such incidents in one short morning, Jennie suggested—in a non-suggestive way—that Nick enjoy the comforts of a line-shack for the remaining days. Subsequent to the incident at Heath’s, Victor had been doing much better—indeed Victor and Nick together were doing better. She was not willing to see those gains destroyed, not for this reason. Not for any reason. He didn’t move out, but he did pull a tighter rein on his temper and his tongue. And somehow the fragile truce—a truce that existed to some degree in all the households—held until Saturday’s arrival.

John Markle looked around at the assembled group and could feel the tension sizzling. Jarrod had met his train and during the ride to the ranch had filled him in on what had transpired. Curiosity aroused, he was anxious to meet the family members and see how this would play out. He had anticipated this probability when he presented his final report to Jarrod, and therefore had been mulling over possibilities for proceeding. First he needed to hear from all of them, and see what they might be willing to attempt.

“Well Mr. Markle,” Nick jumped right in, “Counselor here seems to think you can be helpful. We need ta figure out how ta get these jackals.”

John appraised the rancher, mostly liking what he saw. “Please, Mr. Barkley, call me John. And, I’ll admit to having some ideas that may prove helpful, but I am not about to suggest I have a foolproof answer.”

“Forget that Mr. Barkley stuff, or we’ll be tied in knots here just tryin’ ta figure out who is who. Nick is fine. At this point I think I can speak for all of us when I say that any ideas at all that might be helpful will be welcome. Fire away.”

Seeing nods from those assembled, Markle began to lay out his thoughts. “We have acquired enough evidence to convince ourselves we have the right men,” he looked for, and got, nods of confirmation. What we don’t have is evidence that will satisfy the law. We need that evidence. So, if we don’t have it, we have to do something to create it.” He was stopped as Jarrod intervened.

“Now hold on a minute there, John. I want these guys as much as anyone here, but if we are going to do this legally we can’t be entertaining any thoughts of fabricating evidence.”

John Markle smiled.  _Some things are predictable—some people too._  “You’re absolutely right Jarrod. But, I don’t believe I said we should fabricate evidence, at least not in the way you are meaning. What I said is that we need to have it created,” he stopped, watched and waited, seeing mostly confusion on the faces around him, Jarrod included. And then he saw it, the brightness designating understanding in the pale blue-eyes across from him. He then heard the quiet drawl support what he’d seen.

“So, what yer saying is that we need ta get ’em ta do somethin’ that’ll prove they’re guilty, somethin’ we can take ta the law, somthin’ that will be solid evidence. Urge the criminals inta more crime. And then we catch ’em doin’ it.”

Markle was impressed. Jarrod had suggested this brother had a keen intellect, acute deductive skills, and a sharp wit. He was seeing it in action.  _Wonder if his other skills are as good as Jarrod intimated._  He saw Jarrod tilt his head in that way he had, and the slight smile with the raised brows, followed by the quick, reserved nods that showed acceptance.

“Yeah, could work. But how do we go about it. We have to entice them into doing something and then be in place to catch them at it. Not an easy undertaking. And maybe a dangerous one too. We don’t want to lose more of our own in an attempt to catch these.”

“I just want them caught,” growled Nick. “Danger be damned. Since when do Barkleys run from danger. We’ve met it before, we’ll deal with it again.”

John nodded thoughtfully.  _Seems to be much like Jarrod described him too. He could be a loose cannon, but if we can anchor him effectively he’s going to be mighty valuable to this plan._

Before he could reply, Victoria Barkley cut in, “Yes Nick, we have. And sometimes we’ve paid a very high price. If it’s at all possible, I’d like to see this done without having to pay that price.” Neither her message, nor its meaning, were lost on the family.

“Yes, Mrs. Barkley, you are absolutely right. We want the result to come at minimum cost. There are ways to do that, and that’s my area of expertise. Mine and the people I employ. That’s part of the plan I’m looking to propose.”

“Okay, agreed,” snapped Nick, cutting off the detective. “So let’s get on with it. Let’s hear this plan of yours,” he demanded as he now started to pace, his spurs again creating the staccato hum in the room of anxious thoughts.

“Well, Nick,” Jarrod interjected sharply, “if you could sit and listen, we might be able to do just that. Hard for anyone to offer anything if you are going to insist on interrupting.” Jarrod wasn’t sure in that moment just why he was letting this sometimes aggravating human dynamo annoy him, but nonetheless annoyed he was.

Nick glared at him, and then, as he turned to make another pass, felt a hand on his arm and looking up saw Heath, and read the pleading—and the understanding—in the steady blue eyes. He dropped his head, breathing deeply and heaved a sigh.  _Okay. Okay, little brother. For you I’ll sit and listen. Sit quietly and listen. Let’s see what he’s gonna propose._ Raising his head again, hazel met blue and blinked, and he took a seat by his wife.

Feeling the anticipation, Markle began. “As I said, I have men in my employ. Men who are expert at what they do. I suggest we use four of them to follow Gray and Cohen. Two assigned to each man, so they can spell each other off in roughly 8-hour shifts, around the clock. The culprits won’t make a move without it being known. And I can assure you my men will never be seen. Neither Cohen, nor Gray, will ever know they’re being tailed.

“And then we start feeding them info that begins to get them worried. We use the evidence we have to do that. I believe this will be most effective if we use Heath for some of this,” he looked at the blond cowboy and saw the worry on his wife’s face.

“Won’t that put him in danger?” she quietly asked.

“In simplest terms, yes! But he’s already in danger—at least as long as those two are loose. The difference is that he’s in control. He picks the time, the place, and who’s involved. And don’t forget, we’ve always got a man watching who can step in at any time if necessary. While I do want to minimize any danger, I’m not foolish enough to suggest we can eliminate it entirely. At least not do so and get the job done.

“We have to bait them, bait them into doing something they otherwise would not have done. Heath is likely to be the most effective element in that regard. He is most likely going to be able to get them stirred up enough that they will forget to be as careful, as cautious, as they have been until now.”

John relaxed somewhat when he saw the heads begin to nod.  _It’s starting to sink in, but they’re not running, they’re coming on board. This just might be feasible._  If he were honest with himself, John Markle would have to admit that the quickening of his pulse was attributable to his budding excitement. He loved solving puzzles, he loved intrigue, and he realized that maybe for the first time in his life he was being given the opportunity to delve in to his heart’s content. And to do so for the better good.

He laid before them the details of his plan.

********

Three days later the men were in place and it started. Heath, spying Cohen across the street, sidled up to the pie-bald mare tied out front of Piper’s saloon. Bending down he lifted the near front hoof and proceeded to see if the horseshoe in his hand looked to be a good fit. He made a surreptitious glance across the street.  _Yup, he’s watching._ Satisfied, he released the leg and giving the horse a reassuring pat, headed for the batwing doors.

Moving up to the bar, he glanced in the mirror to confirm Gray was at a table. “Boy howdy Piper, a man can certainly develop a thirst on a day like this. Gimme a nice cold one.” Taking a long draw on the beer, he leaned his back to the bar, and resting his elbows on the polished top, drawled, “Any idea who owns the pie-bald out front?” Piper, wondering where this was going, glanced over the doors to be sure it was the right animal.

“Looks like his,” he replied, pointing his chin towards Gray and studying the blond. “Lookin’ to add some variety to your herd?” He chuckled.

“Nah, just wondering. Seems that little mare’s hoof is a perfect fit fer this here horseshoe.” He set the item in question on the counter as he took another swallow of the brew. “Was at the local smitty’s a while back and happened ta spot this shoe in a pile o’ discards. Caught my eye,” and turning back to the counter he picked up the horseshoe holding it out to Piper. “See this notch here, just off the center. Well, just so happened it was a perfect match ta a print found at my place, just after the fire. A print I knew hadn’t been made by any o’ our horses. Been keepin’ an eye out e’er since, seein’ if I might see a horse what fit it.” He finished off his beer, as he watched Piper’s fingers clench around the rag he was wiping aimlessly over the counter.

“Now, looky here Heath. I ain’t lookin’ ta have—” But he was silenced by the icy-blue eyes, and waited. As the rugged cowboy picked up the hunk of metal, threw a coin on the counter, and headed for the door, he visibly relaxed.  _What the hell was that all about._

As he reached the batwings, Heath looked back at Piper and once more drawled, “Guess I’ll check with Fred. See if he’s verified Gray’s whereabouts that night. Thanks fer the beer. See ya next time,” and stepped outside. He headed over to the jail house, just to make it look good. Fifteen minutes later he was on his horse riding out of town.

But he didn’t head home.


	20. Chapter 20

_Need to get this done as soon as possible, and this may be the best chance I get._ Heath reined Charger off the road and into the trees, guiding him back toward town. Once he got close enough, he secured the big bay in a draw where he’d be well out of sight and proceeded on foot.

True to his word, John Markle, had enlisted four of the most seasoned surveillance men he knew to keep continuous watch on Cohen and Gray. About the time Heath turned Charger back to town, Walt Gibson, had just replaced his partner, who had updated him on the little conversation Heath had had in front of their suspect. Having trailed Gray, as he left the saloon, he now had a good view as the weasel appeared to being having a heated discussion in Cohen’s boarding-house room. Although he couldn’t see him, he knew Javier Pallares was watching Cohen. Confident he was well hidden, he nonetheless kept a keen awareness of his surroundings. Didn’t do to be surprised in this business.

And so no one was more than surprised than he when someone whispered in his ear, “We gotta have us a little talk.”

His head snapped around to discover the tall, blond rancher he’d met a couple of days before. “What the hell … how in the world … damn,” he stammered.

Heath placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispered, “I won’t tell if ya don’t. In fact, I don’t want anyone else ta hear about this, ’cept those other three guys doin’ what yer doin’. Deal?”

Not sure what he might be getting himself into, Walt nonetheless realized he was in that proverbial spot between a rock and a hard place. He nodded his assent, and then listened as the quiet cowboy dictated his request. He didn’t like it but he understood what drove it. Suspected that in the same situation, he’d probably want the same thing. He agreed. Somehow he knew the nod he gave this man would be construed to be as binding as a written contract. There would be no hedging on this agreement.

His mission completed, Heath disappeared into the surroundings and was soon back on his horse. This time he headed home.

********

Over the next few weeks, Walt kept Markle advised of the movements and activities of the suspects, and Markle in turn, kept the Barkleys apprised. There had been a visit to speak with the proprietress of a local establishment—in the middle of the day. There had been another to a young man—the son of a local man of some standing—who had endeavored to run up substantial gambling debts that could not be retired satisfactorily by the seemingly equally substantial allowance from his father. And there had been follow-up visits to these same personages by an individual who succeeded in garnering a more significant portion of their attention. 

And then one day Nick walked into the mercantile to find Cohen talking with Jeffries. Although it hadn’t been part of the official plan, the opportunity seemed tailor made. Easing up to the counter, spurs jingling, Nick handed over his list.

“Can you put those things together for me, while I take care of some other business? If I can get that smooth-talking brother of mine ta spring for a steak at the Cattleman’s, you should have a good couple of hours,” Nick inquired.

“Not a problem Nick. I’ll have it for you by the time you’re back,” Lyle agreed.

As he started to walk off, Nick turned back, rubbing his hand over his mouth and down around his chin, before slowly adding, “Oh yeah, an’ I could use whatever you might have ta help burn up some brush piles. Got probably 5 or 6 good-sized ones ta get rid of, so whatever you think it might take,” and having taken a few more steps, turned back again. “Seems ta me I heard Cohen here bought something off you earlier this year for the same purpose. He can probably give you a good idea of what works and how much I’ll need. See you in a coupla hours,” and he then made his way across the room and out the door without bothering to look back and see what reaction his announcement had elicited.

  _We got people in place ta report on that, but damn it would be nice ta see it for myself._ And that 100-horsepower smile, the one that brought out the dimples, lit up his face, as he strode down the boardwalk toward Jarrod’s office.

********

Two nights later, following one of Silas’s hearty dinners, John was regaling them in the Barkley study. “Well, it wasn’t part of the plan, but I have to hand it to you Nick, that was quick thinking. And very effective. Walt tells me Cohen’s reaction was priceless. First he tried to suggest to Lyle that he’d not sold him anything for such a purpose, and then when he realized the futility of that step, insisted he had no memory of having bought any such thing, or any reason for doing so, and so couldn’t offer any help in knowing what or how much Nick might need. He was clearly rattled to learn that Nick knew anything about the purchase,” he paused for a moment to enjoy a sip from his brandy glass, before continuing.

“Good thing Lyle caught on and was able to play along. He assured Cohen it was no problem if he couldn’t remember, because he  always kept really good records of sales and he’d have no trouble looking it up. Cohen apparently made a hasty retreat at that point, a retreat in search of Gray.

“However, we now have a potential problem,” he looked around the room. “Our plan may be working a little too well. We’ve got the witnesses who are willing to testify that they had been bribed to provide alibis, we can now add Cohen’s reaction to the record we previously had about the purchases, but it won’t be enough. At least not for a conviction.

“Word is getting around, people are starting to talk. The rumor mills are working round the clock, and none of it in their favor: Cohen and Gray are somehow involved in the fire; they’ve apparently been seen with the containers of flammable fuel; there is proof Gray’s horse was there; witnesses will swear they’ve admitted to things; and, on it goes.  Gray has been let go from the freight company where he’s been working. Cohen’s got a contract with Henderson to clear a piece of bottomland but word is that he’s not likely to get more work when that’s done. They’re getting worried—and they’re getting angry. So, we’ve got two antsy suspects who are now talking to each other about maybe leaving town—disappearing.”

Waving off what he suspected was about to pop off Nick’s tongue, he added, “And, yes we can trail them wherever they go. However, once they’re out of here it’s not too likely they’re going to do anything else that will add to the evidence we need. Leaving in and of itself won’t be sufficient.”

Victoria sighed, “So, it all may be for naught. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“No Mother,” Heath quietly offered, “I’m guessin’ what he’s suggesting is that we gotta come up with somethin’ that will push ’em over the line. And we gotta come up with it now.” He raised an eyebrow at John, and waited on his response.

“That’s about it. And I’m not sure what that somethin’ might be,” he agonized.

“We need some sort of admission from at least one of them. And we’re going to need to bait them with something they aren’t suspecting in order to get it.” Jarrod’s summary did not ease the concerns.

“Damn … sorry Mother,” Nick exploded as one fisted hand smacked the palm of the other. “We’re too close ta lose this now.”

“Well, let’s sleep on it tonight and see what comes with the light of  a new day. Whatever we come up with we can’t put it into action until tomorrow anyway,” Victoria reasoned. It had not escaped her notice that her youngest son had gotten quieter than usual, or that he seemed to have gone somewhere that left this conversation far behind.

_He’s got an idea, and he’s not about to share. Might as well try throwing dishwater out in a hurricane as get him to say anything. Oh Tom, please just don’t let him do anything foolish. Please just keep him safe._

Her suspicions seemed verified when a moment later he took Sarah’s hand and suggested they head home, and did so without further word or comment on what had transpired. She might persuade everyone to head for bed, but she for one would not sleep well this night. The look Nick gave his blond partner did not escape her notice either.

_Nick sees it too, and likely can do no more about it than any of us. And he’ll know that and it will frustrate and annoy him._

In bed that night Heath wrapped his arms tightly around Sarah and reassured her, “We’ll think o’ somethin’, they ain’t gonna get away.”

She looked at him, she felt both the tension and the attempt to soothe in his tight embrace. And she knew. She’d seen it too, seen what Victoria and Nick had seen.  _He’s got a plan. He probably anticipated this and has had a plan since the start._ And in that moment she knew also what he needed from her. He needed her to accept his reassurance, let it allay her fears, and to trust him. Trust that his desire to obtain justice would not exceed his desire to stay with his family. To grow old with her, to watch their children grow and enjoy their grandchildren. Love, honor and obey—she had vowed.

_I guess trust ought to have been added to that collection. Well there or not, it’s what he needs from me and I’ll not deny him. I can’t let him down now. Just need to hold him close and let him think I’ve been fooled. And continue to hold him close when he rides out tomorrow morning. And trust he’ll ride back._

She squeezed him back, and then drew her head back to look at him full face. “I love you Heath Barkley. No matter what happens, I’ll never stop loving you.” And before he could respond, before she would let him say anything that she knew she’d not be able to bear, she covered his lips with hers and slowly ran her hands through those precious sun-bleached strands. And when finally she felt him relax, she turned and nestled against him, pulling his arms around her, until she could ease herself into sleep. The baby would wake her soon enough, and she could do nothing about tomorrow.

Mounting the big bay stallion the next morning, after giving their children a tight hug with a kiss for the baby and a more fervent one for her, he nonchalantly bid her goodbye and with his familiar two-finger wave rode out of the yard. It was not lost upon her that he failed to say when he’d be back—or if he’d be back.

_God, I know I’ve often asked for more than I’ve likely earned, and I know when I do attempt your work I may do it poorly, but if there is but one prayer that you can grant to me, please let it be this. Please, God, keep him safe, bring him safely home. To me, to all of us._

Shortly before lunch Sarah heard hoof beats in the yard. Relief flooding through her body she hurried outside, only to be disappointed when she recognized the dark-haired rancher on the horse.

“Hi there, gorgeous. Where’s that scoundrel you married,” Nick called, as he dismounted and hitched his horse. Getting no reply, he looked up and saw the distress on her face.

“He’s not here, is he,” he barked. “Damn him. He’s decided to do this on his own. Well I’ll show him,” he stormed, as he turned to grab Coco’s reins.

For just a moment she hesitated. Hesitated while that part of her that only cared about having him, warred with that part that knew if she didn’t let him do this he would no longer be the person she was afraid of losing. The latter part won the brief battle and she stepped forward grabbing Nick’s arm. Turning tear-filled eyes on him she pleaded, “No Nick. You can’t go after him. He has to do this. I don’t like it, you don’t like … maybe even he doesn’t like it. But we all know he has to do it.” And no longer able to contain them the tears ran unabated down her cheeks. “Please Nick, you just have to trust him. Please.”

He saw the tears and knew he was defeated. Gathering her in his arms he held her tight and let her sob, at first unaware of the tears dripping onto her dark hair.  _Oh God, I can’t lose him. Not now, not after all he’s been through. After all we’ve been through._

As rapid-blinking hazel, met still-glistening brown, he nodded. She reached up and ran her hand slowly down his cheek, knowing the emotional battle that raged within this fiercely protective big brother. And knew he was as afraid of losing the blond they both loved, as was she. 

It’s okay Nick,” she whispered. “I’ve asked our God to protect him, and this time I feel he’ll hear my prayer. He’ll protect all of us. It’s going to be alright. Come, let’s have some lunch and wait for him to come home. We can both be here for him.” And she smiled up at the man that she revered above all but her own cowboy. They would help each other hold onto their trust in that man’s abilities, and their knowledge that he would understand how much they needed him to come back to them—come back to all of them. Exhaling a deep breath, and placing a protective arm around her shoulders, he let her lead him into the little house.

The game now had the potential to get deadly, and Heath was on his own.


	21. Chapter 21

Riding toward town Heath knew what he had to do, and how it had to be done.  _Nick’s not gonna like this when he finds out. He’s gonna think I’m strikin’ out on my own again, forgettin’ I got him, forgettin’ I got a whole family ta turn ta. Only I haven’t forgotten—just not sure how I’m gonna convince him o’ that, him or the rest o’ them. There just ain’t no way this could work except like this. Been thinkin’ about it from the beginnin’ and knew it could come ta this. Heath Barkley, ya must be crazy. Ya could get yerself killed doin’ this and all ya can think about is whether or not ya can fix things with Nick afterwards._

Giving his head a shake, he thrust those thoughts aside and again considered his plan. He put his focus there. This was not the time to consider what could be lost if he failed, or the multitude of ways in which he could fail. He was going to get one chance at this, and only one. Of that there was no doubt. There was no room for error, and that meant a singular focus. He was a man on a mission, and there was no turning back, no stopping until it was finished—or he was. Time to think about afterwards, afterwards.

He stopped at a few places, made some inquiries and then rode down Stockton's main street. He spotted the horse, and tying his alongside, walked into the small café. Gray was there. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was ahead he marched up to him, and in a deadly cold, knife-sharp tone advised the man, “I know ya done it. Cohen too. And I’m gonna prove it. Ya thought ya could buy people, get ‘em ta lie fer ya. Only,” and he leaned towards Gray, his clenched knuckles resting firmly on the table, his ice-blue eyes boring into him, “I got more money than ya’ll e’er see. And I bought those people back. They’re mine now.

“And I’m gonna keep buying people. I ain’t givin’ up. I don’t care where ya go. I’ll trail ya. I’ll hound ya to Hell and back if that’s what it takes ta make sure ya end up there permanent like. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much it costs, I’m gonna get ya. There’s no place ya can go, and no way ya can get clear o’ me.

“And when I’m done nailin’ ya, I’m gonna stand and watch ya swing. And when they cut ya down I’m gonna spit on the both o’ ya. And now I’m gonna go finish ma business in town and then I’m gonna go tell yer buddy what I just tol’ ya. I wanna know the both o’ ya are gonna be sweatin.” He turned his back, and strode purposely across the room and out the door. He’d baited the trap, now to put it where it could catch the prey.

Leaving his horse where it was he headed for the bank. Exiting there a short while later, he headed for the sheriff’s office. Maybe with enough money you could even buy a lawman. Who’s to say what you can buy with enough money? A short while later he headed over to collect his horse, noticing the pie-bald was no longer tied along side. Looked like the prey was getting hungry.

Mounting up he headed out of town toward the Henderson place. He knew where to find Cohen and he expected Gray would be there ahead of him, letting the other man know what was happening, and convincing him they had to take action. They’d be waiting for him.  _Time ta set the trap, let the prey pounce, and … snap. Got ‘em._

_Stop. Stop thinkin’, stop considerin’ what might be. Forget about what ya might be ridin’ inta. Focus. Just focus._

He shook the thoughts loose again, cleared his head and kept riding. He just rode, riveting his focus on doing what he planned to do. Spotting Cohen in a small newly-cleared area, he rode in and carefully dismounted.  _Boy howdy, it’s time. Just get it done Heath._

Making his way steadily and deliberately across the opening he began addressing the object of his attention. “Cohen I’m gonna tell ya what I told yer buddy. Ya can get the details from him, but yer both dead men. I’m gonna nail ya, and yer gonna swing fer what ya did ta my family,” he snarled as he slowly continued on his way towards the man.

“Ya couldn’t stand losin’. Not the poke game or the fight ya started,” he taunted. “And when yer friends weren’t fast enough ta take me out, ya decided ya’d do it yerself. Well, I’m gonna teach ya that ya don’t get ta play God.”

He saw the hate in Cohen’s eyes and he continued baiting, “Ya were gonna kill me, burn down my house ’n’ me in it. Only ya messed it up didn’t ya. Ya didn’t know I weren’t there. And, ya lost again. And ya killed innocent kids, almost killed some others and an innocent woman as well. Just so’s ya could get yer revenge. And now ya’ll ne’er get rid o’ me. I’ll be followin’ ya ta the ends o’ the earth until I get ya. But I ain’t gonna kill ya. I ain’t gonna make it that easy. I want the pleasure o’ watchin’ ya kickin’ from the end o’ that noose, listenin’ as yer suckin’ in air, and watchin’ as the spittle drips down yer chin. And I’m gonna see God get his justice.” He kept his voice low and steady, and watched the rage sweep over Cohen, watched him lose control.

“Don’t ya dare speak ta me ’bout God. Ya got no right. Yer nothing but the devil’s spawn and ya ne’er shoulda been allowed ta associate with proper folks, God-fearing folks,” the enraged man blustered.

“God-fearing,” Heath quietly drawled, “ya don’t know the meanin’ o’ the word. Those were God’s children ya killed, and yer gonna burn for all eternity in Hell fer that.”

Cohen moved forward. “They weren’t no children o’ God. They weren’t innocent. Yer the devil’s spawn and they were Satan’s children. Just like that woman o’ yers that turned her back on God fer ya. They was meant ta be burned on Satan’s pyre. He got his own back. We was doin’ God’s work that night, and we’ll finish the job. We’re gonna get ya, ya and the rest o’ that devil’s brood,” he spat.

For a moment Heath faltered.  _What’s he talkin’ about? The children … Sarah? He meant fer them ta die—he was out ta get them? He weren’t after just me?_ Once more he shook his head, dislodged the thoughts that were distracting him. _Later Heath, later. Don’t think on that now._

Another quick shake of his head and he pulled himself away from the disarming thoughts, focusing himself back on his reason for being in this spot, with this wretched piece of humanity. “Ya ain’t gonna get me. And ya’ll never again be a threat ta ma family.”

Those blue pools of fiery ice bore into Cohen, and he saw the mounting fury build on the murderer’s face—a rage growing beyond control—blowing the previous caution to the winds and scattering downfall in its wake. He watched and knew his ploy was working. He steeled himself against his own rage and patiently listened as the confession poured forth.

“It ain’t gonna happen. Ya think ya got us on the run. It was just luck ya weren’t there. But we take ya out and we can get the rest o’ them easy, just like we did last time. Burned that house o’ yers once, we can burn it again. Only this time we’ll make sure no one gets out. God’s work will be done. Gray and me’ll see ta that.”

By now Heath had closed the distance and they were starting to circle each other. Cohen pulled a knife, didn’t want to risk attracting anyone with gunfire. J _ust got ta keep the bastard occupied until Gray can get inta place. He’ll never see him comin' and there ain't no way he can take both o' us._

His first couple of swipes missed their target, drawing them both ever closer to the small stand of trees—closer to Gray. Heath knew Gray was there, expected he was using the trees for cover. He watched Cohen, watched his eyes, his body—they’d tell him when Gray was going to strike. And then he heard the twig snap and saw Cohen’s eyes widen, saw his face, his hand on the knife relax ever so slightly. Now.

Heath threw himself to his left, and spun hard around, feeling the shock travel up his arm as his elbow made contact with Gray’s head. At the same time he felt the ragged burn down the back of his right arm. He didn’t take time to see if Gray was down. Had to play it like he was. If he wasn’t it wouldn’t matter, he couldn’t likely hold off both of them. At least not long enough for help to arrive. The blood was running hard and fast down his arm and dripping from his fingers to the soft, green ground.

And then Cohen was on him. He dodged a deadly thrust and followed it to grab the forearm with his left hand. He could see the fist coming for his head and couldn’t make his right arm come up to block it. He pulled back as much as he could without losing the grip, but couldn’t adequately avoid the blow. There were black spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he could see the thicker veil moving in from both sides.

It was getting harder to move, his feet starting to feel like they’d been mired in early Spring mud. He shook his head a couple of times to try and clear the fog, and realized Cohen had somehow wrested his arm free. He saw the knife coming and barely dodged it, thinking he needed to close the distance so he could grab the arm again. An upward thrust had him stepping back and to the side. His feet hit the inert body of Gray, going out from under him, and he felt himself falling. Off balance and with the world already spinning he went down hard, his left arm connecting with a newly created tree stump, and heard, more than felt, the bone snap.

Looking up he saw Cohen coming at him, saw the knife heading for his throat. And then the knife disappeared from sight, the curtains closed in completely and everything went black. 


	22. Chapter 22

Nick was getting restless. Lunch was long over, and whatever Heath’s plan he’d had more than enough time to carry it out. His spurs rang out as he spun again at the end of the room and turned back the other way. Sarah watched and thought how like a caged animal he seemed.  _I’m guessing he’s feeling about as helpless as a caged animal, and as desperate. Not sure how much more of this he can take—or me._

“Nick, he isn’t going to come any sooner with you wearing a furrow in the floor. Please, come and sit down,” she beseeched. She had put Rachael down for a nap, and was quietly reading to Leah. She was grateful that Seth had come by right after lunch and offered to take Jonathan with him to check on the outer herd.

He looked at her.  _How can she be so damn calm. I know she’s gotta be as worried as me, probably more—if that’s possible. I can’t take much more of this. You better get your butt back here mighty soon little brother or I’m goin’ after you._

They both jumped with the knock on the door. “Jarrod,” they shouted in unison, and then looked at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Nick could feel the knot in his stomach, not wanting to hear the answer, and at the same time needing to know.

“John sent a messenger out to the house. Said we needed to come into town and we needed to bring Sarah. Sharon's with me,” he added reaching back to draw her into the house. “She’ll stay with the kids.”

“What’s happened Jarrod,” her brown eyes pleaded for the news she wanted, not the news she feared his presence represented.

“I’m sorry Sarah. That’s all I know, all the messenger knew—or would share. We can take my buggy. Mac has taken Mother to pick up Audra and Carl.”

“Let’s go,” growled Nick, as he grabbed his gunbelt and hat and headed out the door. “I’ll get saddled and catch up ta you,” and with that he quickly disappeared across the yard and into the barn.

Jarrod helped Sarah into the buggy, as Sharon handed the baby to her. Not knowing how long she’d be gone she realized she couldn’t leave her behind. At the very least she soon would need to be fed.

Giving Sharon a quick hug and kiss, he assured her he would get word to her as soon as possible. As Sarah settled the once-again sleeping baby in her arms, they pulled out of the yard.

It was a quiet ride, neither sharing their thoughts, and both aware there was no need. Their thoughts could not be that different. And not likely to be any different from the equally, and eerily, silent horseman who true to his word had quickly covered the distance between them.

As the outline of the town came into view, deep sighs could be heard from all three.

“Where’re we supposed ta meet him Jarrod?”

“I presume he’ll be at the Cattleman’s. He and the men have been staying there.”

“Okay. Let’s quit wastin’ time here. Get that rig movin’,” and touching his spurs to his horse’s sides he picked up the speed. Jarrod snapped the reins and did likewise.

As they pulled into town Sarah looked around and found it disconcertingly normal.  _Shouldn’t something be wrong. How can everything look like it always does._ She realized she was breathing in quick shallow gasps and tried to ease the weight on her chest and take a deep breath.  _Breathe Sarah, breathe._   _It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He has to be okay. He won’t leave you now. Not now. John wouldn’t bring us all this way to tell us he’s dead. He’s okay. You know he’s got to be okay. Just breathe. Breathe Sarah._

Jarrod pulled the buggy to a halt in front of the hotel and helped Sarah down. As she stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for the door, Sheriff Madden called to them.

“Been keepin’ an eye out. Glad you’re here. He’s at Howard’s,” he added quickly, then turned and led the way up the street to the doctor’s office.

Somehow Nick was suddenly there, and grabbed Sarah’s arm as he felt her falter. She heard him forcefully utter, “If he’s at Howard’s he’s alive. And I’m gonna make damn sure he stays that way.” _After I finish beatin’ the livin’ daylights outta him for pulling this stunt._

They arrived at the doc’s to find the small waitin’ room rather packed. Besides the Barkleys and McColl, it held Markle and his four men. It took a moment for the significance of that to register on Nick and Jarrod, and it seemed to do so at the same moment.

Getting the gist of the two questions coming his way, John tried to explain. Their job’s finished, so they’re just waiting like the rest of us for news.

“Whatta ya mean it’s finished? Where are those two?” Nick demanded.

“They’re in my jail,” Fred calmly stated. “And that’s where they’ll be staying. At least until they hang.”

Jarrod’s head snapped around, as he stared at the sheriff. “Hang,” he questioned, “don’t we need a trial first.”

“Oh yeah, Jarrod. Make no mistake. This is goin’ be done all legal. Won’t make no difference. They’re gonna hang. And, if they don’t that’ll be the last day I wear this badge,” he declared. “And now I gotta get back ta work. I’d appreciate it if someone would let me know about Heath as soon as there’s any word. And once he’s not needed here, let the doc know I’ve got a couple prisoners who’ll be needin’ his services,” he added before taking his leave.

“DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THE HELL’S GOIN’ ON HERE. AND WHAT’S HAPPENED TA MY LITTLE BROTHER.”

“Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, lower your voice immediately. Howard is working on Heath, he doesn’t need you distracting him. And I don’t want to hear any more of that language. Now, you will take a seat over there and wait with the rest of us.”

One look at the hard glint in Victoria's grey eyes, and Nick moved toward the indicated chair. “Well, I’m just trying—” he was cut off.

“Nicholas, I said—” she stopped as she saw him settle silently into the chair. And then she moved over to drop her small hand on his shoulder and give a reassuring squeeze.

As they all gazed around the room, the question on everyone’s mind was the same. What had happened to Heath, and how seriously was he hurt. The answer was in the other room and they had to wait for it. Jarrod contemplated questioning Markle, or his men, and then decided maybe this was not the time. All that really mattered was Heath—and how he was fairing.

********

As the knife headed for Heath’s throat he had seen the sudden flash as it disappeared, and a splash of red before the black closed in. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he was sure he’d heard the sound of a gunshot.  _Cuttin’ it kinda fine, but they did as I asked. Guess I musta gotten Gray. I love ya Sarah. Yer safe now. It’s over._

The persistent sound of his name being called, had brought him back to a world that was still swirling around him. He’d snapped his eyes shut again and ignored the pleas to open them. “Heath. Come on Heath. Open your eyes. We gotta get you up and out of here. And we need to get that bleeding stopped.”

He’d tried again and met the same bright swirling mass before he’d disappeared once more into oblivion. That time his eyes closed to stay that way.

With Javier’s gun holding steady on Cohen and an eye on the still unconscious Gray, Walt had started giving orders. Soon they’d had Heath propped up against Gray and ripped open the shirt sleeve to reveal the deep, jagged gash. Tearing strips from his own shirt Walt had tied them tightly around the upper arm in an attempt to slow the still-flowing blood. As those actions were met with some success, they’d eased Heath back against the fallen tree.

Taking no chances they’d then focused on securing Cohen and Gray. Gray was just coming around, but still plenty groggy. Cohen was nursing a badly mangled hand—as badly mangled as a hand can get when it stops a bullet—and trying not to pass out. They’d quickly bandaged the hand and tied the two hand and foot.

Turning back to Heath and seeing that the flow of blood remained slowed but not stopped they’d decided he needed medical help, and quickly. Agreeing they couldn’t do anything with the obviously broken left arm, they’d opted to get him on a horse in front of Walt and get him to town.

Hurriedly loading the two suspects on their horses, Javier had lead the way, thereby allowing Walt to keep an eye on them and still manage Heath. Traveling as quickly as possible toward town their thoughts went back to what had transpired.

_T_ _hey’d been surprised to see Heath ride up to the clearing but had remained secluded. As they watched him taunting Cohen and realized what he was about, they’d abided by the agreement they’d made with him and not intervened. The quiet blond had been anything but, the sound traveling readily from the small clearing to their place of concealment, as his volume was readily matched by Cohen. They’d waited, as had been their instructions, until they’d heard enough of what was tantamount to a confession—and then waited some more. Heath had made it very clear to Walt, that day when he’d surprised him in Stockton, that he wanted more than just a confession—if by chance a court later decided it was their word against the others, Heath wanted to be sure their actions against him would be grounds for putting them away. So they’d waited for the attack—the attempt to eliminate their accuser—before moving to the rescue … getting through the undergrowth and out of the trees barely in time. Seeing his obviously-precarious condition, they questioned that decision, and worried about justifying their actions to John Markle. Nothing for it now but to get him to the doc as quickly as possible._

And now sitting nervously in the cramped little room, with their partners and employer, and a very agitated Nick Barkley, they began to think that maybe justifying things with John could be the least of their worries. If Heath didn’t survive … well, better not to let their thoughts go down that road.

“Nick.” Howard Merar’s voice swiveled all heads, and the thoughts within, to him. “He needs some blood. Might need your input as well,” he added, looking toward Jarrod. “I’ll let you know,” he advised as he opened the door and ushered Nick to his brother’s bedside.

 _At least he’s alive!_  It wasn’t a lone thought.


	23. Chapter 23

Nick hastened to the too-still body on the doc’s examination table.  _Damn. He doesn’t look good. Too quiet and still, even for him. What the hell’s happened here._  He settled on the stool provided and reached for the work-roughened hand, only to be stopped when he saw it was lying at an odd angle. He looked further and noticed the lower arm was broken.

“I know that needs fixing Nick, but first we’ve got to get some blood in him, and broken or not, that arm’s a better choice than the other. If you’ll give me a hand here, I’d like to roll him over first.

Having settled Heath onto his back and placed the broken limb down and across his body, Merar continued, “You know the routine, roll up your sleeve and let’s get going,” and soon having both prepared he set to work linking the dark-haired rancher to the blond.

“Since I’m sitting here with nothin’ ta do, can you at least fill me in on how he is?” Nick pleaded in a voice quieted with worry.

“Not too much to tell Nick,” Howard began, thinking back on when the battered cowboy was half dragged, half carried through his front door.

_He moved to help, getting him into the back room and onto the table. He could see the quickly developing bruise on the cheekbone, and lifting his lids to check the eyes, was relieved to find them equally responsive. He seemed to be unconscious, likely had a concussion, but he’d probably had worse. The blood soaked bandage suggested that arm was a greater concern. With the stranger’s help and that of Helen, his nurse-as-needed wife,  they removed his shirt, settling the broken appendage across his chest and then exposing the source of bleeding. Realizing he couldn’t work on the wound with him in this position, he carefully shifted the broken arm free of his chest while they rolled him onto his stomach, and then settled it gently beside and above his head. He ordered the unknown helper into the waiting area and turned his full attention to his patient._

_Flushing the site to clear away the bits of debris and dried blood, he gently probed the wound to try and locate the source of the extensive bleeding. Locating the severed blood vessel he requested that Helen set up a cauterizing kit. Using several cotton swabs to pack the area and provide better access to and isolation of the target, he then used one to apply direct pressure. Knowing what was to come he used his free hand to strap the arm securely to the table, and then proceeded to wait for the metal rods to heat._

_As he placed the red-hot tip on the end of the bleeder, he was relieved to hear the soft moan rise with the swirling smoke and see the pull against the restraints. Repeating the procedure with a freshly heated rod, elicited a slightly stronger reaction—and more relief. Heath, at least, was aware and had enough strength to fight back against the pain being inflicted._

_Waiting a moment to be sure the vessel was adequately sealed he began to remove the packing, and then took up needle and suture. Whoever had done this didn’t take the same care of his knife that his victim did—the knife appeared to have been nicked and dull. Some of the skin and underlying tissue was cut, and some was torn. It was painstaking work to fit it back together and stitch it in place and he, and his back, were glad when the last stitch was knotted and clipped. Swabbing the area clean he applied a dressing and bandaged it securely in place._

Finished with sharing his recollections, Howard advised, “Okay, that’s all we can take from you,” before moving to disconnect the tubing. Placing his stethoscope on the furred chest and checking the pulse once again, he nodded. “It’s stronger and slower, both good signs. Now I need to do something about setting that arm.”

Seeing the offer about to come, he raised his hand. “No, Nick, you need to rest. Helen will get you some juice. Drink it. You can use the opportunity to fill in the others who’ve waited more than patiently. Someone else can volunteer to help me with this part,” and giving him his I’m-not-taking-any-nonsense-from-you look, he steered him forcefully out the door.

Before anyone could ask, Merar interjected, “Nick will fill you in. I need a volunteer to help me set his broken arm,” and smiled when seven men rose to their feet. “Mac, you’ve been party to this before. And Carl it might not hurt to have an extra hand or two.”

When the door closed all eyes turned to Nick. “Looks like he’s gonna be okay,” he started and then filled them in with all the doc had told him and what he’d seen. Seeing Sarah’s face as he finished, he quickly stepped over and drew her into his arms. “He’s gonna be okay. Really, he is,” he gently murmured to her and he felt her shoulders start to shake and then her body give in to the sobs. Sobs now, mostly of release.

She stayed there for a long while, taking in the comfort and reassurance that came with it. This was the Nick they knew and loved, the one unknown to most outside the immediate family. The one on whom Heath and all of them depended.

They both stiffened at the half-choked scream that came from the other room, then Nick pulled her back into his embrace. “That arm was pretty badly broke, expect he came ta when they put them bones back in place. Doc expects he’s got a slight concussion and isn’t wantin’ ta give him anythin’ for pain until he knows how bad it is. He’ll be okay. He’s tough.”  _And so are you little lady, so are you. I’ll get you both through this, or I’m not Nick Barkley._

Jarrod, knowing at this point that Nick would put what Sarah needed ahead of what he himself wanted, decided the time had come to get some answers, and turned to John Markle. “John, I think it’s time we found out just what happened out there. I’m assuming Heath is in this condition because he tangled with Cohen or Gray. You were supposed to have men in place watching those guys.” He stopped to take a deep breath, and slow himself down.  _Must be what happens to Nick all the time—the more he talks the more agitated he becomes._ “I think we want to know what transpired, and why your men appear to be unscathed and Heath isn’t.”

Markle started to respond, to defend his men, and was quickly cut off by Walt. “Excuse me John, but Javi and I were there, and he was operating under my orders, so I think it best if I answer,” he turned to his boss for affirmation. Getting the nod he sought, he proceeded to share with those gathered what had transpired, at which point Nick could no longer contain his ire.

“What were you thinking, man? You just let my little brother get attacked and you did nothing until it was almost too late? I should tear you limb from limb.” If Sarah hadn’t wrapped an arm around his, garnering his attention, he might have done exactly that.

“I know you’re upset Nick—”

“UPSET. OH LET ME ASSURE YOU I’M MORE THAN UPSET—”

“Nicholas!” It was almost a whisper from Victoria, but Nick recognized it for what it was. Mother would be ignored at his peril.

Blowing out the air he’d sucked in, Nick turned back to Walt, and quietly asked, “Why?”

“Nick,” looking around, and taking in everyone in the room, Walt continued, “I’m sorry. Heath came to me early on and extracted a promise—one that I now regret giving—to not intervene if this should happen. At least not until we had everything we needed to guarantee a conviction. It’s what he wanted. In truth, I can’t say it’s not what I too would have wanted in his place. I guess we weren’t so much following his orders, as honoring his wishes. It was a fine line we were toeing out there—too fine, when I think back on it. I’m not trying to defend myself. I’m just telling you what happened and why.” He stopped, and resolved to say no more for now. He knew he’d be dealing with John Markle in private.

Catching the eyes of all her family, Victoria stepped in and responded, “Thank you Walt. We appreciate you keeping your word to Heath—we know what that would mean to him, regardless of the outcome. And thank you for taking care of him and getting him back here.” Turning to Markle, she added, “Our thanks to all of you for helping with this whole mess. We are grateful.”

Focusing on Nick, and yet somehow including all of them, she added, “And, now I think we need to leave further questions for later and focus on Heath. On making sure he will be fine.”

She felt Jarrod’s arm curl around her back and give her a squeeze and she looked up and smiled at this son who, perhaps better than anyone, seemed to know when she needed that reassurance and support. She signaled to them all to settle back down and continue waiting for the final pronouncement from the able doctor.

Much later that evening, to Howard’s chagrin, Heath Barkley was settled as comfortably as possible in his own bed. The good doctor had insisted it was not a good idea to move him, at least not for a day or two. Victoria had wanted to protest, but she, more than anyone, recognized that Nick, today, had been held in check— indeed had held himself in check—beyond what even she believed possible. Heath wanted to go home, Sarah wanted him home, and it soon became apparent that Nick had long since depleted his last grain of patience with doctors, sheriff’s and anyone else who tried to stifle him or his actions. Heath went home. As did everyone.


	24. Chapter 24

Nick and Victoria had both offered to stay the night and help Sarah in caring for the wounded cowboy. She had assured them she could manage—in truth she wanted this time to be alone with him, to reassure herself he was here, he was alive, and he was safe.

Having assured the children that Papa was going to okay, she took the time to get them in bed and settled. They had insisted on a last minute visit to get a hug and kiss, and reassure themselves that he was alive and still would be come morning. Wishing them pleasant dreams she closed their doors quietly and started preparing herself for the probable long night ahead.

Accepting that, for the moment, Heath was resting comfortably, she changed into her night attire and then fed and changed the baby. Nestling into her rocking chair, and humming quietly, she gently lulled to sleep their little one—and continued to rock away her own anxieties and tension. Finally, calmed and peaceful, she placed Rachael in the cradle, and taking herself to the chair beside the bed, commenced her vigil. There would be many interruptions during the coming hours, but she kept her focus on this man who meant everything to her.

At some point, probably in the darkest part of the night—just before the dawn—she found herself gazing on him and thinking thoughts she mostly kept at bay. Thoughts that led her to sometimes question the strength of her faith. Thoughts that until now she had been successful in burying.

_I know you think you’re to blame for what has happened—the fire, the children—thinking those men were out to get you. I’m not so sure … not sure that they weren’t after all of us. You wouldn’t be lying her like this now, you wouldn’t have had to suffer all the heartache you’ve been through—none of it—if only I’d never come back into your life._

_Maybe better yet, if I’d never left your life in the first place. If I’d just married you like you wanted in Virginia City. We’d have been happy and maybe you never would’ve been here at all—maybe your mama wouldn’t have told you about Tom Barkley if she’d seen you had a family, were settled and happy. And if you weren’t a Barkley maybe nobody would have paid you, or us, any attention._

That thought barely had time to enter her mind before she found herself discarding it.  _Oh Sarah, who are you fooling? No matter the cost of being Barkley, being a part of that wonderful family more than compensates for any costs. And can you truly believe you alone could be enough for Heath—can you imagine Heath without Nick … without his family? Even if he’d never met them, there’d always be a hole in him where they belonged. No, it’s the Barkleys that allowed him to find himself—he was just generous enough to let you share in that bounty._

_Oh Heath, I’m so sorry. So sorry for all the pain and grief having me has brought to your life—and so grateful for all the joy you’ve brought to mine. I tell you all the time that God has a plan and it’s not for us to understand, only to accept. And then at times like this I find myself not wanting, or not able, to accept it myself … find myself questioning how He could let these things happen to you, and why._

She found herself pausing, reaching out to rest her hand lightly on his, as again her thoughts rolled in.  _Well, no matter how confused I get, how much I let myself question His wisdom, through it all there is one thing of which I’m certain, Cowboy: I love you with all my heart—and one thing I never question: whether you love me._

Glancing to the side she noticed her rosary resting on the bedside table, some missing beads alongside, again in need of repair. Picking it up gently and holding it in her free hand, slowly she began to rub her fingers over the beads, feeling the serenity, the comfort, shifting from them to permeate her being—feeling her faith resurrect itself. She knew, as long as she had her faith and Heath, she would have all the strength she needed to get past her worries, her fears … her doubts. And with that thought, she settled back, waiting for him to waken again, certain now that together they would get through this night and the sun would rise bringing a new day.

Mid-morning of that new day welcomed the arrival of Victoria and Nick, and found Sarah in the kitchen, baby in one arm, while stirring a pot of oatmeal with her free hand. Nick looked at it with disgust. “You’re not feedin’ that ta Heath are you?”

Giving him a strained look she explained that her blue-eyed cowboy had had a rough night. The lingering effects of the blow to the head and the pain from the broken arm persuaded his stomach to heave forth anything that went into it—and everything that didn’t. She was trying to find something that might stay down—and she’d appreciate Nick encouraging him!

“Mother, could you peek in on him and see if he’s awake. He’s been keeping his mind off of things in his own way, but it’s been quiet for a bit. If he’s asleep this can wait,” she advised.

Wondering what she’d find, Victoria quietly eased open the door that stood ajar, and delighted in the sight before her. Heath indeed was asleep—a checkers board abandoned on his chest, and his opponent curled up asleep beside him, her hand resting gently on his now-casted arm. His son, in a close rendition of his Uncle Nick, likewise was asleep in a chair pulled up to the bedside.  _Oh Sarah, I wouldn’t disturb that for all the world._

Returning to the kitchen, she advised Sarah and Nick, “He’s asleep,” and with a laughing smile added, “they all are.”

Sarah laughed outright, “They didn’t get much sleep last night either, kept waking up and coming to check on him—I suspect this whole incident has brought back a few too many bad memories for Jonathan, and Leah will have picked up on that. He and Heath will talk—he’ll be alright.”  _Not sure how I know that, but I do. Heath will give him whatever he needs, whatever it takes, to feel safe again._  Shaking off those thoughts, she continued, “They’ll be looking for lunch soon enough. Let’s leave this for now and go sit where it’s more comfortable,” and shifting the pot off the stove she led them into the other room.

None of them were aware that the children had fallen asleep before Heath, leaving him to ponder Cohen’s words from their encounter the previous day.

_Was he tellin’ the truth? Had he really intended ta kill Sarah and the children? What kinda person could do such a thing? Oh Lord, part o’ me wants ta believe him … makes it easier ta accept I really weren’t ta blame, and part o’ me doesn’t want ta think that the God we love could create an evil that great. Do I share this with Sarah—do I share it with anyone?_

That thought had barely registered before he dismissed it.  _Can’t not share it with her, with all the family. Markle’s men will have heard it—and I’ve asked more of them already than any man’s a right ta expect, can’t ask ’em ta keep anything else ta themselves. And it has e’ery chance of comin’ out at the trial—last place I want Sarah or the rest ta hear about it. I’ll tell ’em later when I’m—_ and his mind made up he drifted off to sleep.

As they settled in the other room, Sarah updated them. “As you noticed, Doctor Merar was out early this morning. Said the ice on the arm seems to have done the trick and so he went ahead with the cast.” Looking at them, she remembered Howard’s words yesterday after losing the battle to delay his patient being moved.

_“I could top him up a bit with a contribution from Jarrod, but it’s not life-threatening to leave him as is. And, it might help keep him house-bound for a few extra days, and reduce what he tackles once he does escape. Once I can put on a cast it will protect that broken arm, within reason, and remind him that it’s not one hundred-percent—remind him to not try using it as if it were. But it’s the other one I’m worried about, that one that will seem capable of working just fine. The only warning he might get from it is pain—and we all know how much attention he pays to that. He really will need to use it carefully and sparingly, give it a chance to heal. He won’t be helping things if he rips out those stitches—and I don’t look forward to going through all that again.”_

“He assured me if he follows orders—at least as well as might be expected—he will heal just fine.” They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, contemplating what might have been, and giving silent thanks for what was, until a groggy Jonathan walked into the room to announce, “Papa’s thirsty and I’m hungry.”

“Nick, would you please get Heath a drink? And, Mother, while I feed my son, would you see if you can get something into yours? The oatmeal is still warm, unless you have a better idea.”

“I think a nice thick steak with all the trimmings would be a better idea,” Nick suggested.

“Well Nick, if you’d like to prepare it, and be willing to wear it, the kitchen is available,” and with an impish grin and swish of a her skirts Sarah swept from the room. Glancing at his mother he grinned, “Okay, I’ll get the boy a drink and let you feed him what you want.”  _Besides, I have a bone ta pick with that boy._

However, once Nick made his way upstairs and let his eyes rest on his little brother he realized he’d not be saying anything just yet. Even with the recent nap it was more than obvious that he was still struggling. He’d attempted to ease Heath’s head into a position to drink without waking Leah—with marginal success.

Victoria arrived with the bowl of oatmeal and seeing that Leah was coming awake got him to help with propping a pillow behind the blond, elevating him enough to make it easier to spoon some food into him. She shooed Nick out, persuading him to take the little girl along and entertain her. After she’d worked to get far-too-few spoonfuls into the reluctant cowboy, and accepted defeat at managing more, she settled him back, planted a kiss on his forehead, and headed out of the room. _Well, perhaps better a few that stay than several that don’t._

Returning to the kitchen, she met Sarah at the bottom of the stairs.

“Any luck?” she asked, glancing at the bowl.

“A few bites is all—but I’m hopeful they might stay down. He admitted to a headache … that admission alone worries me.”

“Howard left some headache powders and some laudanum. He said either would help if we could persuade him to take it, although he wanted some food in him first.”

“Maybe that’s a job for Nick. He can at times be persuasive,” her eyes twinkled as the corners of her mouth turned up ever so imperceptibly.

Nick, however, found his persuasive powers to be substantially less than Victoria anticipated.

"Damn it Heath, just take the bloody medicine. You told mother your head hurt.”

“And ya’ve ne’er told her what she wants ta hear so’s she’d leave ya alone?”

Nick was about to object when he made the mistake of glancing at the blond and saw the eyebrow raise, the hint of a twinkle and the start of a crooked grin and realized he’d been had again.

“Okay, you win. But can’t you just take it—get me off the hook with Mother?” He looked pleadingly at Heath who met the gaze and then closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Nick.”

“Lot of good that’ll—he was cut off by the quiet drawl and the look in the open-again eyes.

“No, Nick. I’m sorry. I didn’t go after ’em all alone ta hurt ya. And I knew ya’d be hurt, and I’m sorry for that. But I had ta do it. It weren’t no last minute reckless move. I’d thought it out—long before. I really made an effort ta do it as safely, as carefully, as possible. I needed ta do it. I just couldn’t find a way ta live with myself—find some peace—if they went free.

“As much as I needed that then, now I need ya ta understand that I didn’t want ta hurt ya and ta accept I needed ta do this and there just weren’t any other way … not a way … that guaranteed … the result … I needed.”

His voice was fading and he could feel himself at risk of sliding into oblivion again. He resisted, first needing a word, a sign from Nick. It was all that mattered.  _Need ta make it right with Nick._ Forcing himself to stay conscious, he looked into the hurt-hazel and saw the pain that had been there start to ebb and then slowly, ever so slowly, flow away … until it wasn’t there at all.

Nick knew from the moment he saw the pleading in those damn emotive-blue eyes that he was beat. And, in that moment, he realized he didn’t care. They’d done what they set out to do, his partner was going to be fine—in body and soul—and for Nick Barkley it was enough. This brother was asking for but one thing and he’d be dammed if he’d deny it. Looking into those blatantly pain-filled eyes Nick found himself unable to do anything but acquiesce.

_Face it big brother, you know he’s right. You don’t have ta like it, but there’s no denying this time he’s right. Don’t guess Mother’s going ta let him off so easy though—and I think I’ll let him fight that one on his own. Figure I’ve earned the right ta at least that much enjoyment after all this misery._

He nodded. “Okay, Heath. I hear you,” he rested one calloused hand on an exposed shoulder before giving a reassuring squeeze. He paused for a moment, then giving the already disarrayed hair a tousle, he added, “Just one thing. All I ask is one thing.” He smiled, dimples and all, as he picked up the pain killer.

Seeing the stubborn cowboy about to continue his resistance, Nick launched into his own spiel. “Heath, Sarah’s been through Hell these last months—been through more than anyone should have ta endure. She’s held fast, stuck by you, done all she could ta help. Don’t you think she’s entitled ta some peace. Maybe it’s payback time. You could lift a whole lot of worry off her shoulders if you’d just forget about what you want and give her what she needs. All you gotta do is follow the doc’s orders—ta the letter. Starting with this,” and he held up the pain medicine again.

A short while later, pain killer ingested, the blond was drifting off. “Nick, we did get ’em, didn’t we? It really is over—” the worried drawl slowly faded.

“It better be little brother. And if it’s not somebody’s gonna get tore apart top ta bottom. So you just rest easy now, you’ve done all you need ta,” and ruffling the blond locks he tucked both arms carefully under the covers, pulling them gently up and over his shoulders.

He would drop his mother at home and then find Pappy to verify that. 


	25. Chapter 25

A few hours after leaving Heath’s place Nick was sprawled over the chair in Jarrod’s office, looking more worn and tired than Jarrod had seen him in a long while.  _He looks a lot like I feel. Must be the relief setting in._

“Yes, Nick, it really is over. I met with Fred and the DA this morning and went over the evidence. The DA assures me that there is no way anyone can make an argument that Heath’s actions constitute coercion in obtaining the confession. There is no doubt he baited and provoked them, but that is as far as he went. I’m quite certain, like he told you, he had planned this well. He knew exactly what to do, and exactly what not to do. Pretty amazing man that little brother of ours.” He sighed, “And pretty lucky.”

“Damn right on that one. There’s a piece of me that would still like ta beat him ta a pulp. And then I look at him and realize just how desperate he felt—not sure any of us really appreciated that part of it. We wanted ta get these guys … he  _needed_  ta get them.”

Jarrod looked at him.  _Why am I surprised. Yet again you’ve done it—shown me that you notice more and understand more than I often give you credit for. You do have the ability to get the small nuances, see the little differences and then see how they matter._

“I think you’re right Nick. None of us truly appreciated what was going on for him. Except maybe Sarah,” his voice trailed off as he thought of the lady who had come into Heath’s life—indeed into all their lives.  _How fortunate we are that she came back to him. What she has brought to this family, on so many levels, is immeasurable. Not sure I’ve ever told her that—need to do so next time I see her._  Picking up again, he continued, “Well those jackals are done. Judge will be back in town next week and the trial should get underway immediately. Not a moment too soon.”

“Amen to that.”

A day later, much the same conversation was taking place between Sarah and Heath, as they rested comfortably—safe and content—on their porch swing. Howard had arrived that morning to find Leah kneeling on the bed beside Heath, diligently poking forkfuls of pancakes into him, all the while listening to admonitions from Jonathan to give Papa time to chew and swallow—and him time to offer a drink of juice. Happy to see that his patient once again seemed to be tolerating food and generally looking more alert and comfortable, he’d given Heath the okay to get up—provided he did no work, and most especially that he took care to put no strain on his right arm.

Heath hadn’t forgotten Nick’s words, and while his immediate reaction had been to challenge the doc’s prescription, and his next to ignore the orders, he did neither. Nick was right—even if he was playing dirty to get Heath to do what he wanted—Sarah deserved better. She didn’t need the added burden of worrying about him, let alone dealing with him. So for now he was obeying—doctor’s orders and hers. And, in reality, it was all he could do. Merar’s speculation had been accurate—without Jarrod’s contribution—having to wait for his body to replenish the blood he’d lost, he found himself with little energy, and that soon depleted once he got up and moved about.

Now, looking over at her, he asked the question foremost on his mind, “Are ya gonna be okay testifyin’ Sarah?”

She heard the worry, and maybe a bit of fear, but most of all she heard the concern. “Don’t worry, Cowboy, I’ll be just fine. Knowing I can do something, can somehow help remove the threat to you, me, our children, is so much better than having to sit back feeling helpless. Lord forgive me, but I think there’s a wretched part of me that’s actually looking forward to it.”

He chuckled, “Ah, but that’s the part I love—that feisty, take charge part.” He chuckled again, “Only this time ya won’t be takin’ charge with an empty gun.” He got serious then, and his voice took on a hard edge, “This time there’s more’n enough ammunition ta make sure there’ll be no strikin’ back.”

“Are you sure, Heath. They can’t slither free.”

“Nick assured me, he talked ta Jarrod. Jarrod says this is a hole-free case—airtight. They are guilty and they will be found guilty. It will be over. The DA and Jarrod’ll be by in the next few days to go over our testimony—make sure we are ready.”

She looked at him, studied him carefully. “And what about you, Cowboy? Are you going be okay testifying? Their motives are going to come out—all of them. Are you ready for that?” She thought about what she’d learned in their earlier conversation.

_They really weren’t after just you Heath, they wanted all of us dead. Can you really let go of the guilt, the blame, and hear it for what it was. Can you do that and keep your faith in the God we love?_

He knew what she was asking, and he extricated his arm from the sling and reaching over—prudently—took her hand. Choosing his words with care, he replied, “Darlin’ as long as I have ya in my life, can wake up each morn and look upon your face, have it be the last thing I see before I go ta sleep ev’ry night, I have all the proof I need that our loving God exists. As long as yer there fer me, as long as I can depend on ya ta find me when I get lost, I can accept that God has His reasons. Reasons that I can’t always—can’t often—understand. Yer the only proof I need. Yer my rock, Sarah. I love ya. I’ll be just fine.”

She looked at him, long and hard, and smiled.  _He’s telling the truth. He will be okay. We both will._ Then gripping his hand, she gently lifted it, smiled gratefully, and nestled his arm back in the sling.

************

Over it was. The testimonies, the jury deliberation, the judge’s sentence, and the hanging. Contrary to his declaration that day in the clearing, Heath did not attend the hanging. He had reminded himself that he’d already gotten what he’d really wanted. The judge’s pronouncement prior to issuing his sentence filled that need. Thinking back on it, he didn’t guess he’d ever forget the words.

“ _This is a crime more heinous than one can rightly imagine. For any man to believe he has the right to judge what is and is not acceptable to God, and then act on that judgment as if he himself were God, defies all that is acceptable in this country, this county, and most assuredly this community. These children did not deserve to die, and their parents and family did not deserve to have this pain brought upon them. If my words do not adequately carry that message, then I pray the sentence will. At sunrise tomorrow, you shall be taken out and hung by the neck until dead.”_

_Heath had waited. He knew for the words to mean anything the Judge had to finish it. He had looked up, pleadingly, at the man on the bench, their eyes had met, and then with a slow nod of acknowledgment to the blond rancher he added the missing piece._  “ _May God have mercy on your souls.”_

All were relieved to have it over, perhaps none more than Sarah and Jennie. The former had had several long chats with her slowly recovering cowboy, until she was certain he appreciated how leaving her and the family out of his plan had affected her— how much his decision had both frightened and disappointed her. They worked things through, and he received her forgiveness—this time. While Nick had worn his invincibility coat throughout—and fooled most everyone—Jennie knew what was underneath and how frayed that coat had become, what was in danger of being exposed. Had it not ended when it did she had been prepared, if necessary, to break out and employ her pinking shears.

Heath’d had to endure the wrath of Jarrod, as well as John Markle, when he insisted the surveillance men were not at fault. He had extracted a promise from them—forced their hands really. And yes he’d done it because he suspected his backup plan might prove necessary.

Their wrath was probably easier to face than the quiet anger from Victoria. She didn’t deny that he’d been right in his assumption, nor that his actions were likely all that would have worked. She didn’t condemn him for deducing the need, devising the plan, nor carrying it out. She was sorely disappointed that he chose to do it on his own. They were a family. He was part of that family. He had no right to behave as if that were not true. She made it very clear he would rue the day he ever again forgot that fact. And, true to the promise to himself, Nick stopped himself from intervening. He might have been convinced that Heath hadn’t forgotten that fact—this lady was a much tougher shell to crack, and Nick doubted the quiet blond would ever succeed in that regard.  _Besides, even if it’s not true in this case, it doesn’t hurt ta have him reminded of the fact._

**Epilogue – One year later**

Victoria gazed around the table as her assembled family found their spots and settled down.  _I wonder if the day will come when it will no longer be possible for all of them to be here. These children will grow up, and no doubt some of them will move away. It’s inevitable—as Tom and I once moved away. Well, Victoria, as Heath is always saying, don’t go borrowing trouble, it will find you soon enough. Enjoy them while they’re here. Embrace the moment._

With that thought she looked down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, to discover a pair of baby-bright eyes staring up at her.  _Oh, you little imp, you’re not asleep. Maybe you’re just enjoying the moment as well._ And she drew him closer.  _You remind me of your Uncle Nick. I seemed to find him surveying what I’m sure, even then, he considered to be his kingdom, when I thought he’d be asleep. Only he didn’t manage it quite so quietly._ She chuckled, almost to herself.

“What’s funny Mother.”

_See, he still doesn’t miss a thing._ “Oh Nicholas, I was just noticing how this little one reminds me of you at this age—a quieter version mind you.” That brought chuckles from everyone.

“Mother, do you want me to take him if he’s awake, let you enjoy your meal unhindered.”

“Not at all Sarah. He’s just fine. We’re both just fine,” stressing the last two words she looked directly at his father, and saw the pink creep into his face. “Just fine!” As his head dropped down and his eyes focused on his plate, she added, “Just the way we like it,” and caught the quick flash of a half-smile and the even quicker wink he sent her way.

The light chatter commenced as the food began to be passed from one to another, adults helping children as needed—and sometimes when not. And so it was that Jarrod added a spoonful of turnips to Thomas’s selections. Heath, seated on his other side, felt the boy shudder. As he watched Jarrod turn away to focus on an animated conversation with Carl and Nick, he sent a conspiratory wink across the table to Jonathan, while he quietly reached over, lifted Thomas’s plate, and deftly slipped his own turnip-free one into the space. The smile he got in return was all the thanks he needed.

_Don’t think we need ta risk goin’ there again. Seems like a lifetime ago._ Thinking back to the last time Thomas had been served turnips in Heath’s presence, he realized they had come a long way. Done a lot of healing and were well on the way to being whole again.

While obtaining the justice he’d sought contributed mightily to the healing—healing that had started in earnest with the birth of Rachael—this latest addition a few weeks ago seemed to complete the process.

Nicolas Thomas—ostensibly named after his parents’ fathers. The original intention had been to give his name the French pronunciation—matching that of her father and distinguishing it from Nick—but when the best Rachael could manage was Nico, well, Nico he’d become. And then, Jarrod and Sharon had shared with them that when they informed young Thomas of the latest arrival his face had lit up and he’d proclaimed, “They named him after me.” Neither Heath nor Sarah were going to correct that misconception. Indeed, Sarah thought maybe Heath was more comfortable with it than the original intention. She well understood that possibility, for although the animosity had disappeared, Heath had not and never could have what she and his siblings had had—a genuine relationship with their fathers.  

Studying the plate in front of him Heath’s thoughts turned once more to the yellowish, mashed mound from which he’d secured a forkful.

_Maybe I shouldn’t be savin’ him from the turnips. Seems those was what got things started last time and a lot o’ good came outta that._ He shook his head softly.  _Nah, he don’t need that, none o’ us do. We can just enjoy the good that’s come and find ways ta keep it comin’. Don’t need ta make him suffer. An’, maybe I owe him, him an’ those turnips. Good thing I liked turnips—still do. Uh, huh._

“I reckon I do.”

“Uh, Heath. You reckon you do … what,” turned half sideways, resting on his elbow, Nick questioned—emphasizing the final word with a flick of his fork towards his younger brother.

Suddenly aware he’d voiced his thoughts—at least the last one—Heath hastened to shut down this line of questioning before Nick got on a roll.

“Like turnips … yeah, I do … now more than ever.” And so saying, he gave Thomas a light jab and reached for the bowl. It took a moment and then he smiled at the sudden laughter that erupted from the rest of his family, prompted by the dumbfounded look on his rancher brother’s face.

_Ah Nick, ya’ll never learn, never learn ta think before ya speak—and I hope ya ne’er do. I wouldn’t have ya any other way. It’s a lucky man I am ta have a brother like ya—and a family like this. And ta know ya’ll always be there fer me, fer my Sarah, fer all o’ us. A lucky man indeed._

The End


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